


Custody

by missmagoo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actually Pretty Fluffy, Custody Arrangements, Falling In Love, Families of Choice, Grief/Mourning, Kid Fic, Loss of Parent(s), Loss of Spouse, M/M, Scott McCall is a Good Alpha, Scott is a Good Friend, Single Parent Stiles Stilinski, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stilinski Family Feels, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4089973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmagoo/pseuds/missmagoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entry in the "Bitetime" fic fest. My chosen prompt was:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>A widower fights for custody of their child after the birth parent who <strike>abandoned them</strike> never knew they existed returns.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is (pretty much) complete! I'm just posting in chapters to buy myself some time to clean up the end and make everything happy and beautiful. I'll be posting 2-3 times a week until it's all up.
> 
> Oh my gosh, and I'm such an enormous ditz to have forgotten the first time I hit post, but I owe so much to [pinetreekate](http://pinetreekate.tumblr.com/) and [herebedragonflies](http://herebedragonflies.tumblr.com/) for their beta reading, their cheerleading, their checking in, and their general (and awesome) support!

The door of the club swings shut behind him, and Derek savors the relative quiet of the New York City alleyway. Bouncing’s an easy enough gig, considering how easily he can overpower men over twice his size just by flexing a touch of werewolf strength, but the music gives him such awful headaches.

He lights a cigarette and leans back against the building, grateful he’s not catching sight of any back-alley BJs for once.

“Bum a smoke?” asks a young, attractive man who appears suddenly beside him. Derek startles, surprised someone was able to sneak up on him. The guy raises an eyebrow and gives Derek’s pack a significant look.

“Sure, whatever.” Derek says, offering the pack. The man takes one and lights it, the smoke curls in the dim light of the street lamp as he exhales.

“You’re a tough man to find, Derek,” the young man observes. “You are Derek Hale, aren’t you?”

“How the hell do you know my name?” Derek growls, fisting the guy’s shirt and shoving him back against the wall, “Who the hell are you?”

In lieu of answering, the young man smirks, and presses an envelope into Derek’s chest.

“You’ve been served,” he says. “You are hereby ordered to appear at the custody hearing of your daughter, Abigail C. Welch, on January the 12th, 2015 or forfeit all claims to custody now and in the future.”

“What the fuck?” Derek says, utterly confused. In his shock, he’d let the guy go, grasping the envelope the guy had pushed into his chest. “I don’t have a daughter. What the hell are you talking about?”

But the guy’s already halfway up the block, and gives him nothing but a jaunty backwards wave as he jogs away and disappears down the street.

“I don’t have a daughter!” Derek yells after him, “Hey, you’ve got the wrong guy! I don’t have --” But it’s useless. The guy is already gone, leaving Derek alone in the alley with a plain white envelope and a hundred questions swirling around in his mind.

 

* * *

 

Stiles is tired.

He was shocked, and then angry, and then utterly heartbroken, and then confused, and then gutted, and then furious in a hot and burning way that almost felt good for a moment before the fury burnt out and left him with nothing but despair; and it turns out that having all those emotions while caring for a five year old girl who is going through very similar emotions is completely exhausting.

So now Stiles is tired.

He’s sitting in Lydia Martin’s office -- his _lawyer’s_ office, because today Lydia is not acting as his friend but as his dead wife’s lawyer -- and listening to Lydia dryly read Kelly’s last will-and-testament.

Her parents sit beside him on Lydia’s couch, a few of Kelly’s closest friends and other family members scattered around the room. Kelly’s mother is finally dry-eyed, but her breath still catches now and then, and she exhales with soft, shuddering sobs that shake her shoulders but barely make a noise. Kelly’s father is stone faced, his shoulders tense as he stares steadily at the carpet, patently refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

Stiles feels raw. He has no idea what he looks like to his in-laws, probably run-ragged. His eyes are sore and red from crying and from lack of sleep. His clothes are rumpled, the jacket his father pushed him into in an attempt to make him look respectable is irrevocably wrinkled around the lapels from where Abby had clung to him, begging him not to leave when his father came over to babysit so that she didn’t have to sit through this. They haven’t been apart since Kelly died -- not for more than a few minutes, and always within yelling distance. They’re both still reeling from the loss.

But everyone had agreed that the reading of a will was no place for a five year old. She’d been to the funeral, and that was hard enough.

The will had no surprises -- Stiles and Kelly had written theirs together not long after they were married, at Lydia’s suggestion that they plan for Abby’s future should the worst happen. As her spouse, Stiles inherits all of Kelly’s possessions, except for a few sentimental items she had bestowed to close friends and family members. More importantly, Stiles is named as Abby’s legal guardian.

Stiles takes a steadying breath, and asks the question that’s been eating at him since he thought of it at Kelly’s funeral.

“Lyds, how -” He stops to clear his throat, “How does this all affect the adoption plans? It was so straightforward when Kelly was here, we never had to worry about her losing custody, only about me gaining it. Now that she’s--” His fist clenches against his thigh as he tries to get out the words without breaking down again, “Now that she’s gone, does that change things?”

Lydia sighs. As horrible as it is to say, this whole thing would have been so much simpler if Kelly had just died a few weeks from now, after the adoption had gone through. As it is, Stiles has just gone from a husband seeking to co-parent his wife’s child to a widower seeking sole custody of a child he has no biological claim to.

“I’m optimistic,” is what Lydia says, only partly because it’s what she knows everyone in the room needs to hear. “You’re far enough along in the process that there is plenty of clear documentation that it was Kelly’s unconditional wish that you become Abby’s legal parent. The will naming you legal guardian helps our case a lot.” She pauses, and gives Kelly’s parents a considering look before asking, “Am I right to assume that Stiles still has your full support in pursuing legal adoption of your granddaughter?”

“Of course.” Kelly’s mother, Joan, says, grasping Stiles’ hand, and Stiles squeezes back in thanks. “Stiles is family, and he’s been a good father to our Abby for her whole life. We want what’s best for our granddaughter, and what’s best is keeping her with the only father she’s ever known.”

“And do you agree, Michael?” Lydia asks Kelly’s father.

“Of course.” Michael Welch replies, voice gruff in a futile attempt to hide the emotion bleeding through, “My granddaughter already lost her mother. I sure as hell don't want her to lose her father, too.”

Stiles feels his eyes begin to well up at the outpouring of support from his in-laws. It’s a huge weight off his shoulders, being reassured of their support.

“In that case, unless the biological father suddenly enters into the equation, I can’t see any reason the judge would have to block the adoption.” Lydia says.

“Kel didn’t think we’d ever hear from him.” Stiles says, “It’s been six years, and we have no idea where he is. We hired that company you told us about to serve the papers, but they said they weren’t too optimistic about locating him. We were never really banking on getting his consent, right?”

“No, we weren’t.” Lydia agrees, “So far you’ve done all the right things, and I’ve made sure all the paperwork is in order. The judge would have to be a complete hard-ass not to grant us the court order to terminate his parental rights in absentia. I’ll speak with the judge before the hearing next week to make sure he’s aware of the situation, but I’ll let him know that everyone’s wishes remain the same.”

 

* * *

 

Derek is standing in a courthouse on the opposite side of the country from his home, such as it is, and his pack, ragtag group that they may be. He’s feeling a bit turned around and still utterly confused about what he’s doing here.

The court summons had said that Kelly Welch was asking him to give up his parental rights to her five-year-old daughter, Abigail.

He remembers Kelly, but hasn’t spoken to her in nearly six years. Certainly never knew she was pregnant, nevermind with his child.

Kelly was a bright spot in a very dark time in his life. He’d found her in the woods near his family home, where he’d returned to search for Laura only to find her dead. Kelly was newly bitten, and had no idea what she was, and Derek had sensed somehow that she was pack. He’d offered to teach her how to control the shift, and she’d accepted on the condition that he help her stop the rogue that bit her from hurting anyone else.

They’d found him, and Derek was faced with having to kill his only remaining family to prevent Peter from hurting anyone else. It hadn’t been as hard as Derek expected it to be, and that more than anything else is what made him run. Derek didn’t deserve to be an alpha, didn’t know how to control the power that started coursing through his body the moment the light went out of Peter’s eyes. He’d turned to Kelly, eyes shining red with his new alpha power, and it was all he could do to tell her “I’m sorry” before he ran.

He paces the halls of the courthouse, fingers running nervously over the summons papers. A nervous habit he’s developed in the past week since he’d been served the papers in the alleyway behind the bar where he works.

Six years is a long time, and he has no idea what to expect from Kelly. Is she angry? Indifferent? Will she be even a little happy that he’s here? He knows she’s married now. The summons had explained that the petitioner for adoption was her husband.

Derek’s a better person now than he was when he’d left Kelly. He’s more settled in his alpha powers, no longer scared of hurting people because he can’t control it. The mantle of alpha still sits somewhat awkwardly atop his shoulders, but his betas are an unconventional bunch, and they don’t seem to mind an unconventional alpha.

He hopes, more than anything, that Kelly will let him meet her. His daughter. God, how can it be that he has a daughter? Derek wonders if she looks like him. Wonders if he’ll see reflections of his mother or his sisters in his daughter’s face. Derek doesn’t plan on stopping the adoption, but he feels like he needed to come, needs to see her just once before giving her up entirely.

Finally, he gives up his nervous pacing and makes his way to the assigned courtroom. Outside the room there’s a man sitting on one of the hard wooden benches that flank the hallways, futilely attempting to comfort a sniffling little girl.

Is this them? Derek wonders. He doesn’t see Kelly with them, but they’re outside the right courtroom, and the girl looks to be the right age. Kelly must be in the restroom, or inside the courtroom waiting to come get them when it was time for their hearing. The man holding the girl who is probably Derek’s daughter looks tired, nearly haggard. He strokes the girl’s back soothingly, looking on the verge of tears himself, and Derek wonders at the stress this whole adoption thing must be putting on Kelly and her family. His resolve strengthens to make it easier on the three of them, to give his consent without contest.

He hates to interrupt, but it’s nearly time for their hearing and Derek wants to talk to Kelly before he sees her in court, to tell her his intentions and ask if she might grant a visit out of the goodness of her heart. He approaches the man and the girl and says, “Excuse me, are you waiting for Judge Tam’s courtroom?”

“We are.” The man says cautiously, “Why do you ask?”

“I’m looking for Kelly Welch. Do you know her? It’s very important that I speak with her before the hearing.” Derek says.

The girl’s head lifts at the sound of Kelly’s name, and Derek’s breath catches as he sees his mother’s eyes, his own eyes, reflected in this little girl’s face. “Mommy’s coming?” she asks, her voice still watery, but hopeful.

“No, baby,” says the man, sounding incredibly sad. “No she’s not. This man’s just confused.”

Derek is confused. If Kelly is in fact this girl’s mother, why wouldn’t she be at this hearing?

The man shifts and places the girl on the bench. “Stay right here, Abby. Don’t move a single muscle til I come back, ok?” He says, and as soon as she nods, the man drags Derek by the elbow just far enough down the hallway that he can speak without Abby overhearing.

“I don’t know who the hell you are,” The man hisses angrily, “but you have got some fucking nerve showing up at my adoption hearing and asking about my dead wife. I swear, if you so much as think Kelly’s name anywhere near my daughter again, I’ll--”

“Kelly’s dead?” Derek interrupts, and the man -- Kelly’s husband, apparently -- stops short.

“You didn’t know about Kelly,” he says, voice gaining an apprehensive edge, like he’s putting together a puzzle he doesn’t want to know the answer to. “And you just showed up at this adoption hearing. Who the fuck are you?”

“Derek Hale.” Derek replies, “I knew Kelly a long time ago, and I just got this summons -- Kelly died? How?”

But Kelly’s husband doesn’t answer. His face is frozen in fear as he stares at Derek. After a few worrying moments, his eyes snap back to the girl and he rushes to her, not giving Derek a single word further.

“Abby, come here, baby.” Kelly’s husband says to Derek’s daughter, picking her up with practiced ease. “It’s time to go see Auntie Lydia.”

“Daddy, you look scared. Did the man say something scary?” Derek’s daughter asks Kelly’s husband.

“The man said something very scary.” Kelly’s husband says, darting a nervous glance back in Derek’s direction, “But don’t you worry, Abbykins. Auntie Lydia’s going to make everything alright.”

The two of them rush off down the hallway, leaving Derek alone and even more puzzled than before.

 

* * *

 

“We have a problem.” Stiles practically yells the moment he sees Lydia near the entrance of the courthouse.

“Stiles, it’s just nerves.” Lydia assures him as she continues marching into the courthouse, leaving Stiles and Abby trailing behind as they try to keep up. “I prepared everything, today is going to go so smoothly we’ll be out of here with the official declaration of your Dad-ness in no-time.”

“Derek Hale showed up,” Stiles says.

“Who?” asks Lydia.

“The bio-dad,” Stiles says.

“Fuck!” Lydia curses with feeling.

“Swear jar,” Abby sings automatically, though it's lacking her usual glee.

“I’ll owe you one, sweet pea. I gotta fix a mess first.” Lydia replies. Then to Stiles she says, “Too late to do anything about it now, we’re in court in less than ten minutes. We just need to ride it out, and pray he’s just a weirdo who wanted to give up his parental rights in person. If worse comes to worst, I will remind the judge that consistency is important for-” She nods subtly to Abby, “particularly in the wake of a tragedy. That should be enough to keep you in custody of her while everything shakes itself out. And as crass as it sounds, possession is nine tenths of the law in cases like this. The longer you keep her with you, the more likely it is she’ll stay with you. Now which one is he?” She demands as they reach the hallway outside the courtroom, nodding at the half-dozen men milling about the hallway on various business.

“That one.” Stiles juts his chin in Derek’s direction, “The one who looks like he’s lost and he’s mad about it.”

“In the leather jacket and the stubble?” Lydia asks incredulously, “In what world is that appropriate to wear to court? Especially to a custody hearing. He looks like a meth dealer. Stiles, your chances of keeping custody just shot up based solely on curb appeal.”

A court official swings open the courtroom doors and announces their case is next to be heard, and Stiles and Abby follow in quickly after Lydia, who leads them to their seats at the front of the room. Stiles can’t help it, he keeps an eye out. And he notices how rather than striding to the front of the room, Derek Hale stands awkwardly for a few moments in the center of the room, before sinking down onto one of the benches near the back.

The judge enters, and everyone stands and sits as they’re told to. Once the case has been introduced, the judge turns his attention to Stiles.

“Mr. Stilinski,” The judge says, “I understand that your wife, the mother of the child in question, has passed away recently.”

“Yes, your honor.” Stiles says.

“And it is still your intention to legally adopt your late wife’s child as your own?” The judge asks.

“It is, your honor.” Stiles agrees, “I’ve raised Abby along with my wife since the day she was born. She is my daughter as much as my wife’s, and we started working toward adoption over a year ago so that our family could stay intact with all the legal protection needed for exactly this type of tragedy.”

The judge nods. “It is my understanding that the biological father has not yet terminated his parental rights, is this correct?”

Lydia rises and answers. “That is correct, your honor. Mr. Stilinski and his late wife made numerous unsuccessful attempts to locate and contact the biological father, all of which I have documented here. With that in mind, we are seeking a court order to terminate the parental rights of the biological father and permit Mr. Stilinski to proceed with his adoption as planned.”

The judge consults his notes, and asks the court at large, “And has the biological father -- listed here as one Derek Hale -- made it to this court today?”

There’s a shuffling from the back rows as Derek Hale stands and replies, “I have, your honor.”

The judge stares at him blankly, clearly not having expected anyone claiming to be Derek Hale to actually show up today.

“You are Derek Hale?” the judge asks.

“I am,” Derek Hale replies.

“And you are the biological parent of the child in question, Abigail Welch?” The judge asks.

Derek hesitates. “I -- I had a relationship with Kelly Welch about six years ago. I never knew the relationship had resulted in a child until I received court summons just over a week ago on January 3rd. Or, I suppose more accurately, very early on January 4th.”

“I see.” The judge says neutrally. “Please step forward, Mr. Hale.” He indicates the table across from the one where Stiles and Lydia are seated.

Stiles can’t help himself. He glares as Derek approaches. Derek meets his gaze with a flat stare.

“Do you have legal representation, Mr. Hale?” The judge asks.

“I do not, your honor.” Derek replies.

“And are you prepared at this time to surrender your parental rights to the child in question, Abigail Welch?” The judge asks.

Stiles holds his breath and prays the next word out of Derek Hale’s mouth will be “yes.” There’s a chance, a small one, that Derek will simply walk out of their lives as quickly as he walked into it, leaving Stiles and Abby to mourn Kelly and move on with their lives in peace.

Instead, Derek hesitates. “I’m sorry, your honor. I’m not sure what, exactly, surrendering my parental rights would mean.”

The judge nods and explains, “If you choose to give up your parental rights, you will be relinquished of all rights to visit or contact the child, as well as all obligation to provide child support.”

“Oh,” Derek says, and Stiles grits his teeth as this stranger looks across the courtroom at him and his daughter.

“I’m sorry, your honor,” Derek says, and Stiles’ stomach drops through the floor. “But I’m not prepared to do that at this time. I know I can’t make up for the five years I’ve missed, but I can’t give up a chance to know my daughter.”

Stiles feels devastated, then furious. How dare this perfect stranger waltz in after six years and have the nerve to call Abby his daughter? Stiles is suddenly and acutely terrified that the judge will suddenly decide that Abby belongs with someone who shares her blood, that Derek Hale will come take his daughter and walk her out of Stiles’ life forever.

Abby tugs his sleeve, and asks, “Daddy? What’s happening?”

“Shh, Abby.” Lydia says to her gently, “I’ll explain later. We have to be quiet now.”

“Mr. Stilinski,” The judge says gravely, “you have done everything right in preparing this case for the adoption of Abigail Welch, but I am afraid that in light of Mr. Hale’s presence at this hearing and his refusal to surrender his parental rights, I cannot grant your adoption at this time. I strongly suggest that you and Mr. Hale come to a mutually agreeable arrangement that is in the best interest of the child, rather than attempt to fight for custody in court. I am assigning a court appointed mediator to your case to help you reach such an arrangement. In the meanwhile, Mr. Stilinski, I am granting you temporary custody of Abigail Welch until this matter is resolved. Mr. Hale, I strongly suggest you seek legal counsel to represent your interests in this case. This court is adjourned.”

The gavel bangs, and Stiles turns to Lydia only to find her looking as shell-shocked and devastated as he feels.

She schools her features quickly, and says, “Don’t worry. We’ll fight this, and we’ll win.” But it lacks Lydia’s usual confidence and doesn’t do much to soothe Stiles. He can’t help but worry that, so soon after losing his wife, he might now be losing his daughter, too.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Derek has no idea what he’s just done.

He didn’t mean to get involved in some sort of custody battle -- he’d only wanted to talk to Kelly, ask if she’d let him meet their daughter just once before stepping aside so Kelly and her husband could move forward as a family. The most he’d even thought to hope for was a promise of Christmas cards with photos so he could see how their daughter grew up.

But then her husband had said that Kelly was dead, and seemed to want nothing more than for Derek to disappear of the face of the earth. And his daughter had looked at him with eyes that look just like his, and Derek knew he couldn’t leave here without meeting her, without at least having the chance to tell her who he is and that he’s sorry for not being there for her.

Besides, he needs to be sure that his daughter is safe. Kelly’s husband -- something Stilinski -- hadn’t mentioned how Kelly had died, but werewolves are tough to kill. Stilinski is human, and Derek has no idea if Kelly and her daughter were part of a local pack that could help protect Abigail from whatever killed Kelly.

He needs more information, but Stilinski clearly isn’t too willing to give it to him. He already seems to hate Derek. Besides, he might not even _know_ about the supernatural yet. Kelly might have never told him, or have been putting the conversation off until her daughter was closer to her first shift. Derek’s daughter might need him when the time comes for her to learn how to control the shift, how to keep control and stay in touch with her humanity. Kelly’s husband won’t know how to teach her that.

Derek tries to think of who he knows in the area, someone he can ask about Hunters in the area or someone who might be able to recommend him to a supernaturally clued-in lawyer. Things could get somewhat… delicate if it turns out that his daughter doesn’t already have a pack, and Derek needs to find someone who can understand that and help him figure out the legal side of things.

So many of the Hale pack’s resources died along with their family in the fire that had killed his entire pack except for him, his uncle Peter, and his sister Laura. But at the time of the fire, Laura had been in the process of digitizing their mother’s old, battered address book filled with pack contacts, which she’d inherited from _her_ mother. It had turned out to be incredibly valuable in the wake of losing their family. Laura had the book in her backpack, along with her computer when the fire had happened while Derek and Laura were at school. Without it, the two of them would never have known who to contact after losing their whole family, would never have known to reach out to the pack that took them in when they reached New York.

Since then, the contacts have been uploaded to the cloud (thanks to the face Boyd had made when Derek tried to explain why he still had a 2004 model MacBook hanging around). Derek quickly scrolls through the contacts on his phone, looking for packs in California.

The pack closest to Beacon Hills is only a short drive away, and headed by an alpha named Satomi.

He tries the phone number listed in the pack contacts, hoping it hasn’t been changed in the ten or so years since the phone book has been updated, and is grateful when someone picks up.

“Hello, this is Alpha Hale.” Derek introduces himself, straining to remember the proper pack etiquette his mother had tried to instill in him when he was young, “I was hoping to speak with Alpha Satomi.”

There is a pause on the other end, before the voice says, “Please hold on a moment, I will see if she is available to speak with you, Alpha Hale.”

A few minutes later, a woman with a soft voice picks up the phone and says, “It has been a long time since I have heard from anyone who called themselves Alpha Hale.”

“I understand you knew my mother, Talia.’ Derek replies, “I hope that when last you spoke with her, our packs parted on good terms.”

“Oh yes,” says Satomi. “Talia Hale and I were good friends. I was deeply saddened by her passing. You say she was your mother, so I presume you must be Derek.”

“Yes,” Derek replies.

“So the other survivors of the fire have passed away,” Satomi says, an observation more than a question.

“Yes,” Derek confirms, somewhat uncomfortably. “Though I have been growing the Hale Pack again, back in New York.”

“With bitten wolves?” Satomi infers, and clicks her tongue. “Tricky business, building packs with bitten wolves.”

Derek tries not to bristle at the implied insult. “We’re doing alright,” he says, more sharply than is probably tactful.

“I’m sure you are,” Satomi says. “But you are not calling to talk to me about your bitten wolves all the way in New York. So tell me -- what has you calling me, Alpha Hale?”

“I was hoping you could provide me with some information, and perhaps a recommendation for a good lawyer,” Derek says.

“A lawyer?” Satomi ask sharply, “Are you in trouble with the law?”

“No,” Derek says quickly. “Nothing like that. I’ve just found out I have a daughter, and her mother’s husband is asking me to surrender my parental rights. I just need someone to help me sort out all the paperwork and procedures, and explain to me what’s going on in plain English.”

“Ah, a family matter.” Satomi says, ruffled feathers soothed, “Well, Whittemore and Martin are an excellent firm for supernaturally inclined legal advice. Whittemore’s son is a wolf, and Martin is his daughter-in-law and a powerful Banshee. They both have ties to a new pack -- McCall -- over in Beacon Hills. Headed by the first True Alpha in several centuries. They’re powerful despite their youth and relative inexperience.”

“That’s where my daughter lives now.” Derek says, wondering if Kelly had any contact with this McCall pack.

“Then perhaps they know your daughter and can tell you more about her situation,” Satomi says. “I’m afraid I don’t know much more. They’ve kept to themselves and so have we.”

Satomi gives Derek the address for Whittemore and Martin’s law offices, and Derek thanks her and says goodbye.

 

* * *

 

Stiles manages to keep from completely breaking down until after Abby has been safely passed off to Kelly’s parents for the afternoon while he and Lydia head to her office to start devising a strategy.

Lydia won’t let him drive, which is probably for the best considering the way his hands start to shake the moment he gets into her car.

“Breathe, Stiles. Count your breaths.” Lydia reminds him. “A panic attack won’t help anyone right now.”

Stiles nods and starts the breathing exercises he’d been taught as a kid, when his own mother had died, leaving him and his dad all alone.

Except that instead of helping, the exercises just serve to remind him of how his own daughter is going through the same thing right now, and without the benefit of forewarning a long illness provides. And now with Derek Hale in the picture, Abby might be facing losing Stiles, too. And taken away by some leather-jacket-wearing, stubble-having, deadbeat _stranger_ who doesn’t even _know_ Abby. He won’t know how runny she likes her eggs or how tight she likes to be tucked in at night or how to do the voices for all her favorite bedtime books or--

“STILES!” Lydia shouts, slamming the brakes. Stiles jolts in his seat, gasping, and looks over to Lydia. Slowly, he starts to breathe again.

“We’re going to fix this.” Lydia says, “You and Abby are going to be just fine. Do you believe me?”

“I believe you,” Stiles says, because he’s known Lydia Martin since middle school, and he’s been friends with her since high school, and in all that time he has never, ever seen Lydia Martin set her mind to something and fail.

“The judge gave you custody for the duration of the case.” Lydia says, “And Hale didn’t dispute it. That’s really good for us. It sets a precedent that staying with you is the best thing for Abby. It will be incredibly hard for Hale to try and remove her from your home now. You’re not going to lose her, Stiles. I promise.”

Stiles nods, and watches the road as Lydia starts driving again.

He wants to see Abby. Wants to hug her tight and hear her voice. But he knows that seeing him in this state will only make her upset. It’s better for her to be with her grandparents until Stiles has a better handle on everything he’s feeling and can be attentive to what Abby needs. Abby doesn’t need to take on any more grown-up worries. She already has more of them than any five year old ever should.

Lydia parks outside the Whittemore and Martin office building and ushers Stiles inside, closing the door to her tastefully decorated office as Stiles collapses on the couch.

“You know, when Kelly and I decided she should have a will, it was 90% an exercise in looking normal. _We_ both knew that Kelly was supernaturally unlikely to die unexpectedly, but every other parent of a young child makes a will to plan for their kid’s future, so why wouldn’t we? The other 10% was worrying about Hunters. Feral omegas. Accidental wolfsbane poisoning. God, Lyds. We never thought we had to worry about her dying in a fucking car wreck.”

Stiles sighs heavily, and Lydia debates between saying something comforting and keeping quiet so Stiles can let it all out.

“ _I_ was supposed to be the fragile one.” Stiles says, voice thick as he chokes back tears, “I’m the squishy human who could die at any moment, who’s vulnerable to getting sick or injured. I’m the one we bought life insurance for. If either of us were going to die, it was supposed to be me! Not her. Never her.” He’s crying through the words as he asks, “God, Lyds. Why couldn’t it have been me instead of her?”

“You can’t think like that.” Lydia chides, “Lives aren’t poker chips. You can’t just trade one for another and call it a day."

Stiles looks at her warily through red-rimmed eyes.

“I mean it, Stiles.” Lydia continues, “You’ll drive yourself crazy thinking like that. You can search for reasons or meaning or ways it might have gone differently, but none of that will bring her back, and none of it will help you be a good father to Abby.”

Stiles is quiet for a moment. Then he says softly, “She asked me this morning if the judge was going to bring Mommy back.”

“Oh, Stiles,” Lydia says sympathetically.

“She thinks the judge is the Wizard of Oz. I told her we needed to look nice, because the judge is a very important man. And she said, _You mean like the wizard?_ and I said sure, sort of like the wizard, because I barely understand the legal system myself, never mind being able to explain it to a five-year-old. And hey, it seemed to cheer her up in the car and on our way over here, so I thought, you know, what’s the harm? And then we get to the courthouse, and Abby says to me, she says, _Daddy? If we ask really nicely will the judge bring Mommy back?_ and I had to explain again how -- I mean, fuck, Lyds. How do you tell your kid that Mommy’s never coming home ever again because some jackass in a sixteen-wheeler literally sprayed her body across six yards of pavement?”

He stops, and leans forward to drop his head into his hands. “I can dress it up however pretty I like, tell her that Mommy’s singing with the angels up in heaven, avoid using the word ‘died’ at all costs. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change the fact that Kelly’s not here anymore to kiss Abby’s boo-boos or sing her songs or hug her when she’s feeling sad. And we’re about to go into the courtroom for what should have been my final adoption hearing as I have to explain to her that Mommy’s really gone forever, and the judge can’t bring her back. And of course she cries, because who wouldn’t cry? So we’re sitting outside the courtroom, and Abby’s crying in my arms because Kelly’s dead and there’s nothing anyone can do to fix that, and that’s how he found us.”

“Hale,” Lydia says, her voice full of venom.

“Yeah. Derek fucking Hale. He comes right up to me and my crying child and asks us where Kelly is,” Stiles says bitterly.

“No.” Lydia says, pointing out her window into the hallway, “ _Hale_.”

Stiles turns to look, and sure enough Derek fucking Hale is standing in the hallway of the Whittemore and Martin Law Office, glowering like the whole building’s done something to offend him.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Stiles whispers sharply.

“I have no idea.” Says Lydia, “But as your attorney, I am strongly advising you to stay here, keep out of sight, and not say a single goddamn word until I boot his ass out of here.”

With that, Lydia stands, walks out the door, and shuts it sharply behind her.

 

* * *

 

The offices of Whittemore and Martin, Attorneys at Law, are not particularly easy to find. When Derek finally finds his way to the building, he’s frustrated to find there’s no receptionist to help direct him to someone he ought to be speaking with. He wanders inside and down the hallway, hoping for someone who can give him some direction, and finds himself glaring at the walls, wishing for some helpful signage and finding none.

A door opens, and Derek turns hopefully, expecting someone who might be able to help him. Instead he sees the red headed woman who was standing next to Stilinski in court this morning. She’s storming towards him, face contorted in anger.

“Mr. Hale, I hope you have a good reason for following me to my office today. You’ve already caused my client enough emotional turmoil, and I won’t have him tormented further in my office,” she says sharply.

Derek freezes in the face of her fury. “I didn’t know you were… you,” he stutters out, wincing internally at the awkward phrasing. “Alpha Satomi said Whittemore and Martin was who I needed to see for lawyers who know about… you know.”

“Werewolves?” The woman -- Ms. Martin, Derek assumes, based on Satomi’s description -- finishes.

Derek nods. “Yes. That.”

She purses her lips, annoyed.”Well, this is the right place for that. Unfortunately for you, we are already representing Mr. Stilinski as a client, and taking you on right now would present a massive conflict of interest.”

“Right,” Derek says, realizing that this probably means Stilinski is clued in to the supernatural after all. “Any chance of a referral, then?”

Ms. Martin glares at him, stepping forward with small, precise steps. Her expensive heels click sharply on the tile floor. For all she’s a good six inches shorter than him, she nevertheless manages to give the impression of towering over him.

“I understand that you have no idea who I am or how dangerous I can be, Mr. Hale.” She says, voice low and threatening, “So I’m going to warn you once. If you try to take away my best friend’s kid --”

“I’m not,” Derek protests before she can continue with her threat.

Ms. Martin stops short. “You’re not?” she asks, looking at him searchingly.

Derek swallows nervously as he shakes his head. “No. Or at least I don’t think I am?”

“Then why did you stop the adoption this morning?” she asks.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Derek admits, “I was just planning to talk to Kelly before the hearing. I didn’t know that she’d--” He stops at the stricken look on Ms. Martin’s face.

“Your client doesn’t seem to want anything to do with me,” he continues. “I didn’t think he’d let me have any contact with my daughter if I gave up my rights. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I didn’t even know I had a kid until I got the court summons, but I can’t -- she’s family. I can’t just walk away.”

Ms. Martin gives him an evaluating look as she crosses her arms across her body. “I’ll talk to Stiles.” She says, “But I’d tread carefully if I were you, Mr. Hale. I’m not on your side, and if Stiles asks me to make you disappear, I can and will do it.”

Derek’s shoulders tense at the threat, but he keeps himself from snapping out a response that might turn this woman against him.

Ms. Martin nods, apparently satisfied. “Good day, Mr. Hale. I believe you know where the door is.”

Then she turns on her heel and marches back the way she came from.

Derek’s phone rings, and he answers it as he climbs into his rental car and starts to drive away.

“Hey, Boyd,” he says, glad to be touching base with his betas in the wake of the day’s madness.

“How’d it go, boss?” Boyd asks, using the nickname Derek’s fairly certain his betas gave him ironically, considering how little they listen to him.

Derek blows out a loud, long breath in reply.

“That good, huh?” Boyd asks, “What happened? Your ex let you meet the kid?”

“Kelly died,” Derek says. “The husband’s trying to adopt on his own now.”

“Shit,” says Boyd, “I’m sorry, man. What’s the guy like?”

Derek considers the question carefully before answering.

“Kind of a jackass, but I suppose that’s understandable given everything,” he says finally. “I’m pretty sure he and his lawyer think I’m the enemy, though.”

“You remember to shave this morning?” Boyd asks.

Derek doesn’t answer.

Boyd gives a disappointed sigh and asks, “You at least remember to wear a suit to court?”

Derek lets his silence speak for him.

Boyd lets out a wry laugh. “We gotta work on your first impressions, man. Shit. You probably went looking like you were dressed for work, didn’t you?”

“My clothes were all clean, and in good repair,” Derek grumbles.

“Yeah.” Boyd laughs, “And chosen specifically to make you look like the kind of guy you wouldn’t want to meet in a back alley.”

“I need to get a lawyer, I think,” Derek says, choosing not to respond to Boyd’s digs about his clothes. “I have no idea what’s going on, and I haven’t really been able to talk to anyone about why I showed up. There’s apparently going to be some kind of mediation? But I don’t even know who to ask about how to get in contact with the mediator or find out when the meeting is.”

“There’s a wolf-run law firm uptown, near where Erica works.” Boyd tells him, “Apparently they come in all the time for drinks. She could probably get you a number for them.”

“Yeah, but would they be able to practice in California?” Derek asks.

“I dunno, man.” Boyd replies, “But if not, they might have a referral for you.”

The next morning, Derek wakes up to a text from Erica that reads “Jennifer Blake” followed by a number with a NorCal area code.

He calls the number, and is greeted by a friendly female voice, saying, “This is Jennifer Blake. How may I help you?”

“Uh, hi.” Derek says, “My name is Derek Hale, and I need a lawyer for a custody issue.”

“Nice to hear from you, Alpha Hale,” Jennifer says smoothly. “Deucalion told me you might be calling.”

Derek has no idea who Deucalion is, but he’s probably the New York lawyer Erica got the referral from. Derek makes an appointment to meet her that afternoon.

After explaining the situation, Derek tells Jennifer, “I just need someone to help me figure the whole thing out. I can’t make heads or tails of all this legal stuff.”

Jennifer Blake smiles kindly at him, and says, “Mr. Hale, I’m sure that is something I can help you with.”


	3. Chapter 3

The mediation is held in a small, dull conference room in the courthouse. Lydia had offered to host at the Whittemore and Martin offices, but apparently their mediator had insisted on “neutral ground.”

Kira, the social worker who’d been assigned to Abby’s case, stands and gives Stiles a tight hug the moment he and Lydia walk through the door.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she says. “How are you and Abbs holding up?”

Stiles shrugs awkwardly, slanting a suspicious look toward Hale and the brunette seated beside him. “About as well as can be expected,” he says. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Kira winces. “Representing Abby’s interests,” she admits. “It’s policy in these sorts of cases to have an impartial third party act as the child’s advocate.”

Stiles fights back a scowl at the implication that he isn’t equipped to represent Abby’s best interest. It’s not personal, he knows. And he trusts Kira. She’s become a good friend in the months since being assigned to Abby’s case.

“Do you know much about this mediator?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Marin Morrell.” Kira says, “She can seem kind of cold sometimes. Detatched. But she’s fair.”

Stiles nods, a little stiffly. His nerves are running high.

The woman sitting next to Hale leans in and whispers something in his ear, and Hale nods gravely in response.

Lydia takes Stiles by the elbow and ushers him into his seat.

“That’s Jennifer Blake,” she hisses in his ear, “I don’t know what Hale is up to, but he’s just hired one of the best custody lawyers in the state.”

“You told me he said he wasn’t asking for custody!” Stiles whispers back, feeling panic rise in his chest.

“He did.” Lydia says, “Something must have changed. Blake is total overkill if all he’s asking for is visitation and contact rights.”

Moments later, a willowy, elegant woman with sleek black hair enters the room and takes the chair in the middle of the table, opposite Kira.

“Good afternoon,” she says smoothly, opening the slim file she’s holding on the table in front of her. “We are here today to come to an agreement on custody and parental rights of Abigail Claudia Welch, age 5. My name is Marin Morrell, and I will be mediating this discussion to help both parties come to a mutually agreeable arrangement that serves the best interest of the child. Is everyone agreed on the goal of this meeting?”

She looks around the room as everyone nods.

“Before we get started with the mediation, it is important for me to establish that this is not a courtroom, and I am not a judge. I am here to facilitate a discussion, not to make decisions for you. With that in mind, who would like to start?”

Stiles slants a look to Lydia, and she shakes her head minutely at him. Negotiation 101, he remembers from Lydia’s coaching before the meeting, never make the opening bid.

Unfortunately, it seems that Hale and Blake have the same strategy in mind, so an uncomfortable silence falls over the room.

Morrell gives the lot of them a weary look, before saying, “Ms. Yukimura. As the child’s advocate, perhaps you will start by giving us your assessment of the situation.”

“Of course,” Kira says with a hesitant smile. “During my routine interview and inspection of Abby’s home life for the purposes of the adoption proceedings, I observed a happy, well-adjusted girl with two loving parents and gladly gave my highest recommendation that Mr. Stilinski be permitted to adopt. Abby has a refreshingly large network of support outside her parents, including her maternal grandparents, Mr. Stilinski’s father, and a number of both Mr. Stilinski and Ms. Welch’s close friends.”

Morrell nods, and looks around the room for a response.

Blake clears her throat delicately. “Ms. Yukimura, as much as it pains me to bring up such a sensitive topic, I have to point out that your assessment does not account for Ms. Welch’s untimely death,” she says, eyes shooting to Stiles. He grits his teeth as her eyebrows raise in false sympathy. “The fact of the matter is, no matter how much affection Mr. Stilinski may have for the child, he has no parental claim to her.”

“That is completely false,” Lydia interrupts angrily. “My client has been acting as the child’s second parent for her entire life, and was named as legal guardian in her mother’s will. He’s the only father she knows. Mr. Hale, on the other hand, is a complete stranger to Abby. He has not had any contact with her or Ms. Welch, has not paid any child support, and has been unresponsive to numerous attempts by Ms. Welch and Mr. Stilinski for the past six years!”

“Mr. Hale,” Blake says sternly, “has been willfully denied knowledge of his child’s existence while Ms. Welch and Mr. Stilinski attempted to terminate his parental rights behind his back.”

“We have a file folder full of documented attempts to make contact that suggest otherwise!” Lydia practically yells.

Morrell puts her thumb and forefinger in her mouth and gives a loud whistle. The room falls silent. “If both parties’ _attorneys_ will please keep their composure,” she says sternly, a chiding reminder to the professionals in the room, “I believe this might be a good time to establish both parties’ ideal outcomes. Perhaps the attorneys will allow their clients to speak for themselves.”

She looks to Stiles and raises a brow, prompting him to speak. Stiles exchanges a look with Lydia, before saying, “I want to adopt my daughter. We’re a family, and we’re in mourning. Abby doesn’t need more upheaval in her life right now, and she doesn’t need the uncertainty that I might be taken away from her.”

Morrell says, “And Mr. Hale? What is it you hope to get out of these sessions?”

“I don’t know anything about my daughter,” Hale says. “I don’t know what killed her mother, if it’s something that might come after her next. I don’t know anything about her pack, if she even has one. I don’t know how Kelly’s entirely human husband is planning to help my daughter when she starts to shift. She’s the only blood relation I have left. I just want the chance to know her and to look out for her in whatever way I can.”

“Looking out for her would mean not disrupting her life even more,” Stiles says, glaring at Hale. “She just lost her mother, she doesn’t need to be uprooted from everything familiar and whisked away to wherever the hell it is you come from.”

“New York,” Hale says. “I live in New York.”

Stiles reels. “That’s -- that’s on the opposite side of the country. You can’t take her to New York!”

“I’m not--” Hale starts, but quiets when Blake lays a hand on his shoulder and shakes her head.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Blake says smoothly, “I’m sure you understand my client’s need for additional information before he can make any decisions about what course of action he wishes to pursue.”

Stiles leans forward, ready to demand that Hale leave him and his daughter in peace, when Lydia cuts in.

“Of course, we are willing to share whatever information Mr. Hale requires to set his mind at ease that Abby is well taken care of,” she says. “What would you like to know?”

“How her mother died, for a start,” Hale says.

“Kelly died in a car accident,” Stiles replies weakly.

“Oh come now, Mr. Stilinski,” Blake says. “Surely you don’t expect us to believe the police report. I think everyone in this room is aware that werewolves don’t just die in car accidents. My client doesn’t want to have to remove his daughter from your care. He and his pack are willing to help you eliminate the threat that killed your wife, but if you persist in hiding the true cause of her death he will have no choice but to remove his daughter from what has clearly become a dangerous situation.”

“There hasn’t been a supernatural threat in this town since I was a teenager,” Stiles insists. “My daughter belongs to a strong and stable pack headed by a True Alpha. Her mother was killed in a car accident.”

He turns to look at Hale directly. “I saw the photos from the scene. She was t-boned by a truck. There’s a lot a werewolf can come back from, but not when they’re in as many pieces as Kelly was. It was a senseless accident. There’s nothing here for you to fight.”

Hale looks puzzled. He turns to Blakes and says, “You told me there were hunters in Beacon Hills.”

“The Argents are one of the most dangerous hunting families I’ve ever heard of,” Blake says. She turns to Stiles, “Are you denying that the Argents have a presence in your town?”

“Chris and Allison Argent both live in Beacon Hills,” Stiles says. “They’re allies. They aren’t zealots like Kate and Gerard Argent, both of whom were threats in the past and are now dead.”

“We would be more than happy to arrange a meeting between Mr. Hale and Mr. and Ms. Argent to resolve any lingering concerns.” Lydia says smoothly.

Derek shakes his head. “I don’t want anything to do with any Argents. They may call themselves your allies, but Hunters can’t be trusted. Not a single one of them.”

Stiles tenses. Hale’s words feel like a threat

“Mr. Stilinski,” Morrell cuts in before tensions can escalate further, “How much contact would you say Abigail has with the Argent family?”

Stiles pauses and considers the question. He doesn’t actually like Chris at all. The man had a change of heart about a year after Stiles and Scott had first met him, but Stiles has never quite forgiven him for trying to kill Scott when he first discovered the then-teenager was a werewolf. That said, he’s been a reliable source of information for many years now, and he’s helped them out of a few scrapes since officially becoming an ally to the pack.

“Allison is a member of our pack,” Stiles says, momentarily putting of defining the relationship he and his daughter have with the older Argent. “She’s completely loyal, and an incredible asset. And though she was raised and trained by Hunters, she never became one herself. She loves Abby, just like every other member of our pack.”

“And what about Chris Argent?” Blake presses.

“He’s an ally,” Stiles says shortly. “He provides our pack with information, and occasionally assists in safeguarding the territory, but he typically deals directly with his daughter or with the pack’s alpha, Scott McCall. He doesn’t have much contact with Abby, but I’d say he’s fond of her.”

Morrell turns to Kira, and asks, “Ms. Yukimura, how would you suggest we proceed?”

Kira bites her lip, darting looks between Stiles and Hale. Finally, she speaks. “Abby’s a very young child who has just been through an incredibly traumatic event, losing her mother,” she says. “It’s nearly universally recommended by psychologists, social workers, and child care professionals that children who experience this type of loss be given as much a sense of familiarity and continuity as possible. For that reason, I have to strongly recommend that Abby not be removed from Mr. Stilinski’s home any time in the near future, and particularly while she and Mr. Stilinski are still in a period of mourning.”

She looks apologetically at Stiles, before continuing, “That said, I believe that whenever possible it is good for children to have some contact with both birth parents, as it reduces the child’s anxiety about where they come from and the feelings of abandonment that some adopted children experience. While Mr. Hale’s timing leaves much to be desired, I believe that allowing him to meet with Abby will be in her best interest.”

“Mr. Stilinski, is it acceptable to you that Abigail remain in your custody provided you allow a meeting between the child and Mr. Hale?” Morrell asks.

“One meeting,” Lydia says firmly. “Supervised, and contingent upon Mr. Hale submitting to a background check. Should the background check show any evidence that Mr. Hale could be a danger to Abby, this offer will be null and void. Any additional visitation can be discussed depending on how the first visit goes.”

“Supervised by whom?” Jennifer asks tartly.

“By me,” Stiles practically snarls. There’s no way Stiles is letting Hale anywhere near his kid if he isn’t there to intervene.

“That’s completely unacceptable,” Jennifer says, shaking her head. “Your clear bias against my client will create a toxic environment that would prevent the child from forming any sort of connection with Mr. Hale.”

Stiles doesn’t _want_ Abby to form any sort of connection with Mr. Hale. Stiles wants Mr. Hale to get the fuck out of their lives without ever coming anywhere near Abby.

Before he can give voice to those thoughts, Lydia cuts in, saying, “Kira, then. Abby feels comfortable with her, my client trusts her with Abby’s best interest, and she has already proven herself to be trusted by the court.”

Blake looks like she might protest, but before she can speak, Hale says, “That’s fine. I accept.”

“This is good progress, everyone.” Morrell says calmly, a slight smile on her face. “Unless there is something else anyone wishes to address, I suggest we schedule our next meeting for after Mr. Hale’s visit with Abigail.”

 

* * *

 

Jennifer tells him it will probably be about two weeks until his background check is completed, and that there’s not much he can do in the meanwhile but wait. So Derek flies back to New York to see his pack.

Boyd picks him up at the airport, his sister Alicia in tow. “Well?” Alicia asks as soon as Derek’s in hearing distance, “Did you meet her? Is she cute? Did you take pictures? Is she coming to visit?”

Derek rolls his eyes at his youngest beta. The fourteen year old had been delighted about the existence of a “pack baby” from the moment she’d heard that Derek apparently had a daughter out in California, and had turned a willfully deaf ear to all protests about the complicated nature of the situation.

“I barely saw her for a moment, at the courthouse.” Derek says, “Kelly’s husband ordered a background check on me before he’ll let me meet her.”

“What?” Alicia exclaims, outraged, “She’s your _daughter!_ How is he allowed to decide if you’re allowed to meet her or not?”

“He’s just protecting her, Leesh,” Boyd says calmly. “Guy shows up out of nowhere after six years and wants to meet your kid? It’s smart to make sure he’s not some kind of creep.”

“Derek _is_ a creep,” Alicia says, belying her words with the way she jumps up on Derek’s back and loops her arms around his neck, forcing him to catch her so she doesn’t fall and strangle him.

“Yeah, well,” Derek says, “I’m hoping Kelly’s husband doesn’t come to the same conclusion.”

The Boyds are good company on the drive back to the pack’s townhouse in Brooklyn, Alicia’s bubbly chattiness tempered by her brother’s quiet good humor. They were the last additions to his small pack, and bringing them in had gone a long way toward making pack feel more like family.

Alicia had been bitten by a rogue alpha after running away one night in a fit of pre-teen temper two years ago, and was already making her way home to make up with her parents when she was attacked. Her parents had been relieved when she returned home alive and tended carefully to her apparent injury. But when it became clear that the bite had changed her, they were too frightened to allow her to stay. Derek had found her alone, wolfing out at some stray dogs over some scraps from a bakery’s daily trash, and had told her he could teach her to control it, if she’d let him. Boyd had found them just a few days later, and refused to leave Alicia’s side. Derek tried to separate them, telling Boyd it was too dangerous for a human to be around such a newly turned wolf. Instead of retreating, Boyd had said, “Make me like her, then.”

Derek had yet to have a single regret about giving Boyd the bite. He leveled out the pack, acting as a voice of reason when personalities clashed.

Erica and Isaac completely fail at looking casual when Derek gets home with Boyd and Alicia, curiosity rolling off them in waves as they lounge across the couch and try to look uninterested.

“I didn’t meet her yet.” He says, pre-empting their questions, “They have to put me through a background check first.”

“What?” Erica yelps, abandoning her practiced disinterest to give Derek a comically outraged face. “You were gone all that time and you didn’t even get to _meet_ her?”

“I was gone a week and a half.” Derek says, “I’ve been gone longer on pack business.”

Erica pulls a face. “Whatever,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Since you don’t have anything interesting to tell us, I’m going to get ready for work.”

Derek sinks down onto her vacated seat on the couch.

“So what are you gonna do?” Isaac asks.

“I don’t know,” Derek admits. “This all seemed so much simpler when I thought Kelly was still alive. I was just gonna give my permission or blessing or whatever, and hope she was willing to send me a picture every now and then. Make sure she knew how to contact me if my kid ever wanted to meet me. But now…I don’t know.”

“What’s he like? The step-dad?” Isaac asks.

Derek rolls his eyes. “For one thing, he’d probably throw the first punch if he heard anyone call him the _step_ -dad,” Derek admits. “That’s what makes it all so fucked up. He raised her, he loves her, but he’s a _human_. It was one thing when Kelly was there -- but a human raising a werewolf child on his own? Plus he admitted to having an alliance with hunters. It just doesn’t feel right. It’s not like I want to rip her away so he never sees her again, but she’s my daughter. I have an obligation to protect her, don’t I?”

Boyd hums noncommittally

“You don’t think so?” Derek asks.

Boyd doesn’t answer right away. Derek’s always admired that quality in Boyd, the way he carefully considers what he’s going to say before he says it.

“I think,” Boyd says slowly, “that the only reason you know about her is because you’re being asked to give her up. If you wanted it, that’s about as clean an out as anyone’s ever gonna give you.”

“You think I should walk away?” Derek asks.

“Didn’t say that,” Boyd replies. “Just pointing out that you could, if you wanted to.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” Derek says, thinking about Abby’s eyes, about how much she looks like Laura did at that age.

There was one picture in their house growing up that Laura had loved and Derek had hated. It featured a gap-toothed Laura right around Abby’s age, grinning widely at the camera, hoisting a grumpy-looking one-year-old Derek up by the armpits. Laura always tried to torture Derek by placing the framed photo in a place of prominence every time one of Derek’s friends came over, and Derek had always scrambled to hide it before anyone outside the family could see it.

Derek thinks if he could somehow get that photo back, he’d put it in a place of honor, he’d look at it every day and remember what his life was like before the fire took everything from him. He wants pictures like that of his daughter, wants memories like that with his daughter.

Boyd’s looking at him like he knows everything that’s going on in Derek’s head, and Isaac’s looking back and forth between them with a puzzled expression.

“She’s family,” Boyd says. “You’re allowed to want that.”

Erica comes back downstairs, with makeup on and wearing a tight little strapless black dress she swears doubles her tips. Alicia trails behind her, wearing too much eyeliner and a garish amount of lipstick.

“You,” Derek says, pointing at Alicia, “are not leaving the house with that stuff all over your face.”

Alicia throws him a dirty look, and says, “Erica gets to.”

“Erica is a grown woman,” Derek counters, “who knows how to ward off unwanted advances without losing her control and wolfing out. You are a teenage girl, who I would appreciate dressing like a teenage girl for just a few more years.”

Alicia huffs and stomps back up the stairs. Boyd shoots Derek a grateful look.

Erica flops down between Derek and Isaac on the couch. “So what’s the deal on this mystery kid of yours, Dad?” she asks Derek.

“I’m going back to meet her as soon as my background check clears,” Derek says. “We’re negotiating additional contact if that goes well.”

“What are you gonna ask for?” Erica asks.

Derek shrugs. “Still figuring that out, I guess.”

“What’s your lawyer lady telling you to do?”

Derek huffs. Working with Jennifer is -- complicated. She doesn’t trust the Argents, and is always quick to point out Stilinski’s lack of genetic ties to Abby. Derek had asked what she knew about the McCall pack that Abby’s apparently a member of, but all Jennifer had been able to tell him was that the pack was still very new, barely ten years old.

“She wants me to push for custody,” Derek tells Erica. “Asking for full custody seems kind of unfair to Kelly’s husband, but Jennifer says that without at least partial custody it would be tricky getting the right to see her. Maybe she’s right. Abby’s established back in Beacon Hills, but maybe I could get her for the summers or something.”

“You wanna get a timeshare on your own kid?” Erica asks incredulously.

“It seems unfair to rip her away from the pack she’s part of now and the man who raised her just because I know she exists now,” Derek says. “And they live on the other side of the country. It’s not like we could just switch off on weekdays. It’d be better for her to stay in school out there, I think. I mean, we’re not really set up for raising a kid here.”

“We’re doing alright with Leesh,” Erica argues.

Derek shakes his head. “She’s fourteen, Erica. She’s practically grown. Besides, with the schedule all of us work, we’d be sticking her with babysitting an unfair amount of the time.”

It’s true. He, Erica, and Isaac all work evening and night shifts, and while Boyd nominally has a nine-to-five, he gets asked to stay late to deal with demanding clients regularly.

“What about pack?” Isaac asks. “Would she be in ours or theirs?”

“I’d like to see about making a formal alliance with the McCall pack,” Derek says. “They’re not uncommon when a child has parents in two different packs.”

“What would that involve, exactly?” Boyd asks. He’s always been the most adept at understanding pack politics. “Is that like what we have with the Murphy pack?”

Derek shakes his head. The Murphys were the pack that took him and Laura in after the fire.

“That’s pack protection, and it’s not technically still valid since I started growing the pack,” Derek explains. “We’re still on good terms with them, but we no longer have a formal relationship. An alliance would be more between equals. It would mean an agreement to help and fight for them if they were ever in need, and they would do the same for us, and it would mean we could travel to each others territories as long as we keep each other informed. And it means agreeing to exchange information. It also gives alphas the ability to lend each other pack members temporarily.”

“What does that mean, lending pack members?” Erica asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Basically, it means if I sent one of you to California to help the McCalls with a problem, the McCall alpha would be able to temporarily act as your alpha. Or, if Abby ever came to visit us here, McCall could give me permission to act as her alpha for the term of the visit,” Derek explains. “It’s a way of making sure that if a beta ever lost control for any reason while visiting another pack, there’s still an alpha there who can resolve things without anyone getting hurt.”

“That sounds dangerous, letting someone else have control of your pack member like that,” Erica says.

Derek nods. “It can be, which is why you would only ever do it with an allied pack, with someone you really trust.”

“Do you think we can trust the McCall pack like that?” Isaac asks.

Derek hesitates. “We’d have to meet them, get to know them. It’s not a decision I’ll make alone, but I’d like us to get there.”

Being back in New York with his betas is grounding for Derek, after the chaos and confusion of finding out he has a daughter and trying to navigate the legal situation. He talks to Jennifer on the phone a few times, but she doesn’t really have any new information for him.

Finally, two weeks after returning to New York, she calls to tell him that his background check came back clean and Stilinski’s ready to schedule a meeting with Abby.


	4. Chapter 4

Scott McCall isn’t exactly what Derek expected from a True Alpha.

He practically bounces into the coffee shop where Stilinski had arranged for them to meet, and waves cheerfully to the barista, who greets him by name and cheerfully starts making his usual.

He’s young. For some reason, Derek hadn’t quite put together that the McCall Alpha being Stilinski’s best friend meant they were probably the same age. Derek shudders to think how young McCall must have been when he’d become an Alpha.

When McCall’s drink is ready he scans the room, finding Derek quickly. His easygoing expression shutters slightly as he walks over. Derek stands, and offers his hand. Human greetings are generally preferred in public settings, and knowing Alpha McCall was born human Derek thinks he might prefer to always use human greetings.

“It’s good to meet you, Alpha McCall,” Derek says, quietly enough not to be overheard by human ears. “Thank you for meeting me, and for allowing me into your territory.”

“You didn’t exactly give me much choice,” McCall says, shaking his hand shortly before sitting down. Derek follows his lead.

“I asked Stiles to join us,” McCall says. “He’s my second, and any relationship between our packs would be purely for his benefit and Abby’s. Plus, I thought he might want to get to know you better before letting you spend time with his daughter.”

Derek bristles slightly at McCall’s tone, which is clearly directed toward him specifically given how cheerful he was toward everyone else in the coffee shop. He’s on the defensive, Derek reminds himself as he taps down on the part of him that wants to take offense to McCall’s treatment.

They sit in awkward, hostile silence for a while, until McCall speaks again.

“You know, Kelly was a really good person,” he says.

“I know she was,” Derek replies. “I’m really sorry for your pack’s loss.”

“What you did to her was really shitty, man,” Scott continues. “She was pregnant, packless, and still newly turned, and you just abandoned her without explaining why.”

“It -- I never wanted to abandon her, but it was complicated,” Derek tries to explain. “Leaving her was bad, but staying would have been worse.”

“I just really don’t get why you care,” McCall says viciously. “You didn’t care when Kelly was pregnant and a newly turned werewolf. You abandoned her, so why do you care about meeting Abby now?”

The words sting, but it’s a blow Derek expected. He felt guilty leaving Kelly behind six years ago, and has felt even guiltier since learning she had been pregnant, but he hadn’t known how else to keep her safe. He’s quiet, weighing his words carefully while McCall glares at him from across the table.

Finally, he says, “Do you know how rare you are, Alpha McCall? There hasn’t been a record of a True Alpha in several centuries.”

“What does that have to do with you abandoning Kelly and Abby?” Scott asks.

“I didn’t know Kelly was --” Derek cuts himself off, and takes a breath before he continues, “It has to do with how I became an alpha. I’m not like you. I didn’t earn it. Like most alphas, I inherited my alpha power. There are two ways to inherit an alpha’s power; either you are a chosen successor, like my sister was. There’s training, rituals, things that bind the alpha’s power to the heir so that when the alpha dies, the heir takes on the power and becomes the pack’s new alpha. It’s often a difficult transition, but it’s eased by the training and by the fact that the inheriting alpha typically has the support of a stable pack.”

He pauses for a moment, trying to gather his words without fully reliving the horrible memories that come with them. “That isn’t how I became an alpha. When my family died, my sister inherited my mother’s power, and she, my comatose uncle, and I were the only members of our pack left. My uncle spent his coma plotting revenge. When he was well enough, he killed my sister for her power and set about murdering anyone he could associate with my family’s death. He was the alpha who bit Kelly when she wandered into the woods one night, and he tried to make her part of his pack, but his sanity was gone by then. All he knew was murder and revenge.”

McCall looks simultaneously captivated and horrified. “So what happened?” he asks breathlessly.

“I -- I killed my uncle and became an alpha,” Derek says quietly, wincing at the shocked noise that escapes from McCall. “It was the only way to stop him. He was beyond reason. But suddenly gaining alpha status was a shock. All of Peter’s anger and vengeance had seeped into the alpha power, and I felt all of it like it was my own. I didn’t trust myself with Kelly, every instinct in me wanted to use my new power to force her to submit and I couldn’t -- I was afraid I would hurt her.”

“You were protecting her,” McCall says with dawning understanding.

“I didn’t know how else to do it,” Derek admits.

Right around then, Stilinski walks in and his presence cuts through the tension hovering between the two alphas. The cheerful, bouncy Alpha McCall that Derek had first spotted comes back in an instant as he turns to greet his friend.

“Over here, man!” McCall calls across the shop, wearing a dopey grin and waving Stilinski over to their table. Stilinski grins and waves back, before pointing to the register to indicate he’s going to get a drink before joining them.

“Is all your pack as close as you two?” Derek asks.

McCall looks back at him coolly. “Stiles has been my best friend since we were Abby’s age,” he says. “He’s practically my brother.”

Derek’s been around enough other alphas to make out the implicit threat. He nods his head in acknowledgement.

“So,” Stilinski says warily, pulling a chair over from the next table to join them, “Derek Hale, nice to, um, actually meet you. I guess.” He sticks out his hand, and Derek shakes it stiffly. “You can call me Stiles. Everyone does.”

Derek nods in agreement, then says, “I want you to know, I am sorry for your loss.” Stiles tenses at the allusion to Kelly, but Derek pushes on, feeling like it’s important to clear the air from their tense meeting during mediation. “I get that me showing up has been hard on you, but I want you to know I understand what an important part of Abby’s life you are. I don’t want to take her away from you. I just want to be part of her life, too.”

Stiles relaxes a bit at Derek’s declaration, but his gaze remains wary.

“I hear you’ve been a pack for ten years, is that true?” Derek asks, trying to move the conversation along.

“I’ve been an alpha for ten years,” McCall says. “The pack was already a pack by then. It started with just me and Stiles two years before that when I was bitten.”

“Do you have any born wolves in your pack?” Derek asks.

McCall shakes his head, but Stiles jumps in to correct him. “Well, technically some members of the pack were born not bitten. Like Jackson; he’s a born wolf, but he didn’t know it until he randomly wolfed out on me during lacrosse practice one day. None of us grew up knowing anything about the supernatural, and we kinda had to just figure everything out on our own.”

“How did he not know he was a born wolf? One of his parents must have been a werewolf,” Derek asks, surprised.

McCall shrugs. “He was adopted. He’s kind of uptight about it. His birth parents both died when he was a baby, I guess no one knew what they were when they died. I mean, I guess it makes sense in retrospect. According to all the research Stiles did, born wolves don’t really start presenting until they’re teenagers.”

“We don’t start shifting until then,” Derek says. “There are other signs, though. Ways to tell.”

“Yeah, we’re learning a lot of that with Abby,” McCall says. “She smells like a wolf, and she already has enhanced senses. But if you didn’t know werewolves existed? There’s nothing about her that’s a dead giveaway.”

Derek nods, conceding McCall’s point. “Everyone else is bitten?” He asks.

“There’s not that many of us, dude,” McCall says. “There’s Stiles and Mason, who are both human, Liam, who’s my only bitten beta, Malia, a werecoyote who’s pretty new to the pack, Lydia and Jackson, who I already told you about, Abby, and me.”

“Why don’t you tell us a little more about this pack alliance thing you’re proposing?” Stiles says, cutting straight to the point of their meeting. McCall sits forward a bit, curiosity in his gaze.

“They’re fairly common when a child like Abby has parents in different packs,” Derek explains. “It’s more than just being on good terms with another pack. I don’t know how many other packs you have social relationships with --”

“None, really,” McCall admits, ignoring the indignant glare Stiles shoots him for sharing the information. “We’ve met our closest neighbor, Satomi. But we kind of got the impression she doesn’t really like how, um… unconventional we are as a pack. So, you know…”

Derek nods. “Satomi is very traditional,” he says. “I don’t imagine you have anyone in or close to your pack who’s been able to teach you about our traditions.”

“We’ve done our research,” Stiles says defensively.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “And I’m sure your research is very good,” he says, “but the kinds of things an alpha like Satomi expects aren’t the kind of things you’ll find written down. They’re the kind of behaviors that are ingrained into a pack over generations. Things most wolves wouldn’t even think about, except to note their absence.”

McCall and Stiles share an annoyed look.

“So is that what this alliance is all about?” Stiles asks. “You want to teach us to be a more traditional pack?”

Derek shakes his head. “I’ll teach you if you want to learn, but I’m not like Satomi. Neither was my family. We always had a blend of werewolf and human traditions.”

“Is your family not your pack now?” Stiles asks, and Derek can’t help but wince.

“They were killed,” he admits, “by hunters.”

There’s an awkward, heavy silence.

“No wonder you were so on edge about the Argents,” Stiles says softly.

Derek’s shoulders tighten, and he stares down at his empty coffee cup.

“I’m sorry, man,” McCall says, his voice genuinely sympathetic.

“Look, Ally and Chris? They aren’t like other hunters. They genuinely are trying to protect people,” Stiles says. “I know that’s hard to believe, I know we didn’t believe it at first. But you can trust me when I tell you this town is a safe place for Abby. No one in our pack would settle for anything less.”

There’s a pleading tone in Stiles’ voice. It hurts, knowing that Stiles still sees him as a threat, though Derek has to admit it’s understandable. Derek agrees to meet with the Argents, and then urgently shifts the topic away from his family and hunters.

Stiles and McCall, fortunately, seem to be willing enough to let Derek turn the conversation away from his dead family.

“So, what exactly is involved in this pack alliance you’re proposing?” Stiles asks.

He sounds like he wants Derek to start listing terms so they can start negotiating, but pack alliances aren’t really about contracts with terms and conditions that have to be fulfilled.

“A pack alliance is first and foremost a declaration of mutual trust,” Derek explains, reaching in his memory for the words his mom used to describe them. “I’m not here to propose a contract, first our packs would need to build a relationship. Allied packs are almost like family to one another, and it’s often a family tie that encourages two packs to become allies.”

McCall squints at him. Derek thinks he’s trying to look intimidating, but he mostly just looks confused. “So this is the werewolf side of you trying to be part of Abby’s life?” he says.

Derek nods cautiously. “She would still be a member of the McCall pack. I won’t challenge you as her alpha. But a pack alliance would allow me to have a relationship with her without disrupting any pack dynamics.”

Stiles and McCall trade a look, then McCall says, “So all you’re asking for right now is the chance for your pack and mine to get to know each other?”

Derek nods. “With your permission, I’d like to schedule a time to bring my pack out to meet yours in person. My pack now is all bitten betas, Erica, Isaac, Boyd, and Alicia. Erica and Isaac found out what I was, and asked for the bite. Alicia was bitten by a rogue near my work, and Boyd, her older brother, asked for the bite out of solidarity. He’s my second, now.”

McCall agrees, and they spend a few more minutes exchanging information about their packs. After their coffee is gone, and they’ve exchanged contact information, Derek decides to take his leave.

“It was nice seeing you, Stiles. Alpha McCall.” Derek says, politely inclining his head toward them both.

There’s a brief squabble during which Scott and Stiles seem to be fighting using only their eyebrows and a few wild gesticulating motions. Finally, Stiles sighs and nods reluctantly, and McCall says, “Scott is fine. You can call me Scott.”

Derek nods again, and makes his way out of the coffee shop, leaving Scott and Stiles to their bickering.


	5. Chapter 5

“I don’t like this,” Stiles tells Kira for the millionth time.

“When you met with him yesterday, you said he seemed perfectly nice!” Kira says.

“I _begrudgingly_ said he seemed _civil_ ,” Stiles corrects. He crosses his arms and frowns sternly. It is absolutely not pouting. “That doesn’t mean I want to let him steal my kid.”

“Nobody’s stealing anybody. I’ll be with her the whole time,” Kira reminds him. “We’re meeting in the library, so it’s a public place where people know you and Abby. I have the authority to end the meeting at any time if I feel it’s in Abby’s best interest.”

“I still don’t see why I have to let her meet him in the first place,” Stiles grumbles.

“I don’t want to go through all this with you again,” Kira says, exasperated. “I know you don’t really want to put yourself or Abby through some messy custody battle that could rage on for years. And I really don’t see why you have such a problem with Abby getting to know her biological father.”

“ _I_ don’t get why you aren’t on my side on this!” Stiles says. “I thought you were my friend!”

“I am your friend,” Kira says. “But I’m not on your side for this. Or Derek Hale’s side. I’m on Abby’s side, and you’ve known that since day one.”

Stiles huffs loudly, but doesn’t reply.

Kira rolls her eyes at him, but sits down beside him and pats his knee consolingly.

“Did you tell Abby who she’s meeting today?” she asks softly.

Stiles shakes his head. “I tried,” he says. “But I couldn’t get the words out. I don’t know the right words. She’s five, Kira. We haven’t had the sex talk, yet. She doesn’t know where babies come from beyond ‘from Mommy’s tummy’. Last summer she got it in her head that babies are born when you swallow watermelon seeds. How the hell do I explain to a five year old what a biological father is?”

“So what does she think, right now?” Kira asks.

“That you’re taking her to the library to meet an old friend of her mom’s,” Stiles says. “It was as close as I could get.”

Their conversation is cut off by Abby barrelling down the stairs and shouting “Kira!!!” as she ran to hug the social worker.

“Uncle Scott did my hair today. Isn’t it pretty?” she says, showing off her braids.

“They’re barely lopsided at all,” Scott says proudly, following Abby down the stairs. He grins shyly at Kira, who smiles back at him.

“Hey, Abracadabra. Come here a sec,” Stiles says, motioning to his daughter. Abby bounces over cheerfully.

“You gonna be good for Kira today?” he asks, and Abby nods. “And you’ll be polite when she introduces you to Mr. Hale?” Another nod. “And you’ll put all your books back where you found them when you’re done reading?”

“But I wanna bring some home!” Abby whines, “Can I? Can I please?”

“You can check out two,” Stiles says, holding up two fingers, “but only if you leave your spot neat and tidy, and you put all the books you aren’t taking home back where they’re supposed to go. Deal?”

Abby nods, and lets Stiles hug her and kiss her forehead. Then she grabs Kira’s hand as Kira opens the door.

“Bye, Daddy! Bye, Uncle Scott!” she says, waving, as she follows Kira out.

“Bye!” Stiles yells after her, ‘“Love you!”

The door closes, and Stiles slumps back on the couch and rubs his hands across his face.

“You doing ok, dude?” Scott asks.

“No,” Stiles says. And, ok, this time he’s totally pouting. “I’m not doing ok, Scott. An alpha werewolf who lives in freaking New York is trying to take my daughter from me just because, if we’re getting technical, he’s the one who actually impregnated my wife six years ago.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Scott tries to joke. Stiles glares at him.

“He’s not going to take Abby from you,” Scott says reassuringly. “We don’t even know if he wants to. He might just want to meet her and see that she’s doing ok, and then go back to his own life.”

“Or he might want to steal her in the dead of night and disappear with her so I never see her again!” Stiles says. “But we don’t know what he wants because he’s been so deliberately vague about what he’s even asking for, and it’s driving me nuts!”

“He’s not gonna take her from you,” Scott says firmly.

“Scotty, you can’t _know_ that,” Stiles says miserably.

“He’s not,” Scott insists, a touch of his alpha tone bleeding into his voice, “because we won’t _let_ him. She belongs with you. She belongs here, with the people who love her, with her _pack_.”

Stiles shakes his head. “He’s her blood, Scott. What if there’s nothing we can do?”

“You’re her dad,” Scott says, “and Hale’s just some stranger who happens to share some DNA with her.”

Then Scott side-tackles Stiles into the couch’s armrest, wrapping his arms tightly around the other man.

“Ow, Scott,” Stiles protests weakly. “This is really uncomfortable.”

“It’s bro-hug time,” Scott mumbles into Stiles’ back. “Just give into it.”

Stiles gives some thought to shoving Scott off, but a hug from his best friend is kind of exactly what he needs right now. So he does his best to relax into the awkward angle Scott has pinned him in, and lets Scott hug him until they both feel a little bit better.

“I’m sorry this whole thing, by the way,” Stiles says softly.

“Sorry? You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” Scott protests.

“No, it’s just -- I know you were planning to ask Kira out once the adoption went through, and now it’s all dragging out into this whole big thing --”

“Dude, stop it,” Scott says. “You and Abby are way more important than me getting a date. Besides… Kira and I kind of talked about it. And even though she says it would be a conflict of interest for her to date me while she’s still acting as Abby’s social worker, she said there was no reason we couldn’t be friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Stiles says, gratefully latching on to the distraction from his own problems. “The kind of friends who gaze longingly at one another from across the room?”

“Shut up,” Scott says.

“The kind of friends who daydream about the smell of each other’s shampoo?” Stiles teases.

“I mean it, Stiles,” Scott warns playfully.

“The kind of friends who -- Stop! No tickling! Tickling’s cheating, you cheater!” Stiles yelps as Scott digs his fingers under Stiles’ ribs, making him squirm to get away. They shove at each other like they’re twelve again, until Stiles laughs himself off the couch and Scott tries to keep him from climbing back on by sticking his feet in Stiles’ face.

Stiles is sprawled on the floor, with Scott’s foot pressing into his face, when the front door opens.

“Yep,” says the Sheriff dryly. “This looks about right.”

“Hi, Dad,” Stiles mumbles from the floor.

“Where’s my granddaughter?” John asks, looking around. Stiles drops his head to the ground and groans piteously.

“Kira took her to meet Derek Hale,” Scott explains, and John winces sympathetically.

“At least you two are coping with it like adults,” he says.

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated, old man,” Stiles tells him. “I will have you know that I acted every inch the responsible adult until my daughter was out the door.”

“He absolutely did,” Scott confirms, “except for all the whining to Kira he did while I was helping Abby get ready.”

“You guys heard that?” Stiles asks.

“Werewolf ears, dude,” Scott reminds him.

“Did you --” Stiles starts to ask.

“Yeah, I distracted her before she heard too much,” Scott confirms.

Stiles shoots him a grateful look.

The Sheriff reaches down to give Stiles a hand up off the carpet, which Stiles gratefully accepts.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, son,” John says lowly in Stiles’ ear, clapping him on the back.

“I hope so,” Stiles says quietly, before letting his dad and his best friend distract him with ESPN.

 

* * *

 

Derek’s nervous as he waits at the front entrance of Beacon Hills’ public library for Kira and Abby to show up. Kira had helped him pick the location, saying the children’s section was very welcoming and that reading together might be a good activity for them on their first meeting.

He had decided against going up to the children’s section on his own, realizing that a grown man not accompanied by a child might look out of place, and make some of the other parents uncomfortable. So instead he waits nervously in the front lobby, just barely keeping himself from pacing.

On his pack’s orders, he’s wearing an outfit Isaac and Erica picked out and Boyd had approved: his lightest wash blue jeans (which are, admittedly, still a pretty dark wash denim) and a soft maroon henley that Isaac had bought him for Christmas last year and he’s never actually found an occasion to wear. They’d told him to shave, too, but he’d forgotten to do it this morning in his rush to arrive early. He awkwardly scratches at the scruff on his chin and hopes he doesn’t look too intimidating.

Finally, he sees Kira approaching. She’s holding Abby’s hand as they cross the parking lot, and Abby’s looking up at her, babbling excitedly. The library’s front door swings open in a whoosh of air, and Kira spots him immediately. She grins at him, and waves as she and Abby approach.

“Derek!” she says. “It’s so good to see you! I have someone here I’d like you to meet.”

Abby’s whole demeanor has shifted since Derek first spotted her in the parking lot. From the moment Kira greeted Derek, Abby became suddenly shy. She’s hiding behind Kira now, curious face peeking out from Kira’s legs.

Derek gives Kira a cautious look, which she responds to with an encouraging nod, before he drops down on his knees to address Abby at her eye level.

“Hi, Abby,” he starts cautiously. “My name’s Derek. Did Kira tell you who I am?”

Abby shakes her head.

Derek glances up at Kira, who gives him an apologetic wince. Turning back to Abby, he says, “I used to know your mom. I’m, uh… the thing is, well: I’m your biological father.”

Abby looks at him blankly, the tiniest frown of confusion starting to crease her brow.

“Do you know what that means?” Derek asks her, feeling helpless. Abby shakes her head.

Derek stops the swear word that wants to come slipping out of his mouth, and instead says to Kira, “I never thought introducing myself to someone would mean explaining the birds and the bees.”

Kira snorts a laugh, and Abby brightens. “I like bees,” she says cheerfully. Derek feels his heart leap, because it’s the first thing she’s ever said to him. Well, discounting that day at the courthouse. Besides, that wasn’t really to him so much as Stiles, it was just in response to something Derek had said.

“Bees, huh?” Dere says, latching onto the topic. “What do you like about them?”

“They make honey!” Abby says proudly. “And they help the flowers grow.”

“You sure know a lot about them,” Derek says. “Would you like to see if the library has some books about bees?”

He glances up at Kira, who shoots him a dorky thumbs up and a grin. Abby surprises Derek by taking his hand and pulling him towards the children’s section. She’s apparently pretty familiar with the place, and has already mastered the use of the children’s digital catalogue.

“See?” she tells Derek, “I put what kind of book I want to read in this box,” she points on the computer screen to a box with a large graphic question mark beside it, “and I write the kind of book I want,” and she painstakingly types _B-E-S_ into the box, “and then I press _GO!_ and it tells me all the books with bees!”

She hits the big green GO! button in the center of the screen, and the page loads with _‘zero results for keyword “bes”.’_

Abby frowns at the screen. “I know they have bee books!” she complains, “I read them before!”

“I bet they do,” Derek says calmly, “but the kind of bees we’re looking for have two ‘e’s. Do you want to try again?”

They do, and this time Abby carefully spells out the word ‘ _bees_ ’ with two ‘e’s.

The top two results both show up with big green check marks beside them, which Derek assumes mean they’re in right now. Derek takes careful note of the book titles and authors, before telling Abby, “It looks like they’re both in the _Nature_ section. Should we go find them?”

Derek is very impressed with this little library. Both books are exactly where they’re supposed to be, and Abby cheerfully pulls them both and leads Derek to one of the reading nooks set up around the children’s area.

“This is my favorite spot,” Abby tells Derek as she sits down. She’s somehow acquired two more books on the short walk from the Nature section shelves to the little couch by the window.

“It’s a good spot,” Derek agrees, sitting down and letting Abby climb up beside him. Kira takes a seat on a large cushion beside the couch, carefully observing but not interfering as Abby and Derek interact.

“Which book would you like to start with?” Derek asks.

“Well, these two have bees in them,” Abby says, pointing to [What If There Were No Bees?](http://www.amazon.com/What-There-Were-Bees-Grassland/dp/140486394X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1424911555&sr=1-1&keywords=bees+childrens+books) and [Bee & Me](http://www.amazon.com/Bee-Me-Elle-J-McGuinness/dp/1449443710/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1425013196&sr=1-1&keywords=bee+%26+me). Then she points to the other two and says, “But these two have wolfies in them, like me!”

Then her eyes go wide and she slaps a tiny hand over her mouth and shoots a horrified look at Kira.

“I’m not s’posta talk about wolfies with strangers,” she says quietly. “Mommy and Uncle Scott and everybody always say it’s only ok to talk about wolfies with pack.”

“It’s alright, Abby,” Kira says kindly. “Derek’s a werewolf, too. You’re allowed to talk about being a werewolf with him. Just try to be more careful in the future, ok?”

Abby nods, but she still looks nervously at Derek.

“You want me to show you?” Derek asks, hoping that seeing proof he’s a werewolf will help her get over her slip-up. Abby nods, so Derek carefully checks that there aren’t any other people around, and quickly flashes his eyes at Abby, making sure not to put any of his alpha authority behind it.

Abby gasps. “You have red eyes,” she says. “Does that mean you’re an alpha like Uncle Scott?”

Derek nods. “I’m an alpha,” he tells her. “I have a pack with four betas.”

“Are they all grown-ups, or does your pack have any kids like me?” Abby asks excitedly. Derek wonders if she’s had any contact with other packs, and whether her own pack has any kids her own age.

“We’re mostly all grown-ups,” Derek tells her. “My youngest beta, Alicia, is fourteen. So she’s not quite a grown-up yet, but she’s not a little kid either.”

“Fourteen is _old_ ,” Abby says, her eyes wide. Derek looks over her head to share an amused look with Kira. “How old are you?”

“Do you want to guess?” Derek asks.

Abby considers the question carefully, studying Derek’s face. “I think you’re older than my daddy,” she says. Derek reminds himself that she’s talking about Stilinski, that Abby doesn’t even really understand what Derek is to her. “But you’re not as old as my grandpa. He’s, like, a hundred!”

“He is not!” Kira laughs. “Your grandpa on your daddy’s side is fifty-three, and your Poppy on your mommy’s side just turned sixty. You don’t know any hundred-year-olds.”

“But your mommy is really old!” Abby protests, “You told me!”

“Yep, my mommy is nine hundred and twelve,” Kira says. There’s not a single blip in her heartbeat, it sounds like she’s telling the truth.

At Derek’s curious look, Kira explains, “Kitsune. We’re long lived.”

“Oh yeah?” Derek says, “How old are you, then?”

“Twenty-nine,” Kira says easily. Again, no blip. “So Abby, how old do we think Derek is?”

“Um…” Abby says, squinching up her face in concentration, “Forty-four.”

“Forty-four!” Derek yelps, his indignation only partially put-on, “I’m thirty-one, you goose!”

The pet name drops effortlessly from his tongue, startling him after the fact. His parents, his father especially, had always called him and his siblings “silly goose” or just “you goose” when they were being deliberately silly or obtuse. The memories it brings up are bittersweet, and he struggles to keep up the cheeriness that their guessing game had brought.

“Hey, why don’t we read one of these books you picked out,” he says to Abby, trying to distract himself from the past. “Which one do you think we should start with?”

“This one!” Abby says, holding up [Wolfie the Bunny](http://www.amazon.com/Wolfie-Bunny-Ame-Dyckman/dp/0316226149/ref=pd_sim_b_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=1492FBCEGD1KCT5BE88N).

It’s a goofy story, about a wolf who gets adopted by a family of bunnies, and his big sister who is suspicious her new brother might eat their whole family up.

“My daddy has to be adopted,” Abby tells Derek solemnly after they finish the book, “because he’s a human and not a wolfie like Mommy and me.”

“I see,” Derek says, trying to wrap his mind around whether this is something Kelly and her husband had told Abby to explain the adoption process or whether it’s something Abby came up with on her own.

“Only now Mommy’s gone, so I have to adopt Daddy all by myself,” Abby says sadly.

“Your Daddy’s very important to you, huh?” Derek says, as soothingly as he can. Abby nods.

“Well,” Derek continues, “you seem like a very smart girl, and I’m sure you’ll do a great job of adopting your Daddy.”

“Yeah?” Abby asks, brightening.

“Yeah,” Derek says, “and I bet if you ask really nicely, you can get Miss Kira and your Uncle Scott to help you.”

Kira’s smiling a little sadly at him, but Abby looks so cheerful that Derek really can’t bring himself to feel sad.

They read a few more books before Kira announces that it’s time to go. They let Abby pick out two books to check out, and help her put the rest away. Kira moves to take to books to the checkout desk, but Abby stubbornly announces that she can do it herself.

While Abby checks out her books, the elderly children’s librarian doting on her, Kira hangs back to talk to Derek.

“You’re not gonna pursue custody, are you?” she asks, her voice knowing.

Derek shakes his head, watching Abby. “She’s happy where she is. How could I take her from that?”

Kira nods, then says, “You still have options, you know. California honors after-adoption agreements. You can arrange visitation and contact rights. Giving Stiles the chance to adopt her doesn’t mean you can’t be part of her life.”

“Ok,” Derek says, swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat. “Can we talk about this later, though? I don’t really feel up to it right now.”

“Of course,” Kira says quickly, “absolutely. Call me any time, and we’ll set up a session so I can walk you through all your options.”

Derek nods again, quickly. Then Abby’s bouncing back over to them, books in hand. She dutifully hands a receipt to Kira and says, “These are my due dates. Daddy says to always give them to the grown-up I come in with so I don’t lose them and make Daddy pay fines.”

“Good thinking, Abbs.” Kira says, taking the receipt. “Are you ready to say goodbye to Derek?”

“You’re leaving?” Abby pouts, “Don’t you want to come home and meet Daddy and Uncle Scott?”

Derek shakes his head. “Another time, ok?” he says.

“Can I give you a hug goodbye?” Abby asks.

Derek nods, and bends down so Abby can throw her arms around his neck. He hugs her back gently, and releases her with a pat on her shoulder.

“It was nice meeting you,” Abby says politely. “Thank you for reading to me.”

Then she and Kira wave goodbye and walk out of the library.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

“So I have some good news,” Lydia says when Stiles enters her office to prep for their second and (hopefully) final mediation meeting. “Kira called after her meeting with Derek, and it sounds like he’s definitely not going to be asking for custody.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, dropping heavily onto the couch in Lydia’s office as the relief floods him. “Oh my god. That’s -- that’s amazing, Lyds! Abby’s staying with me?”

“She’s staying with you,” Lydia confirms. “Kira said she and Derek went through all sorts of options, and he still wants visitation, but he’s leaning toward a conditional surrender agreement of his parental rights, naming you as the adopting party provided we agree to an after adoption agreement.”

“Ok,” Stiles says, “that sounds mostly good, but what does it all mean?”

“It means that Abby would be your daughter. You would have a full and legal adoption, just like we planned,” Lydia says. “And even better, you’d have Hale’s specific consent to adopt Abby which means he can’t come back later and try to claim her. This is really good news, Stiles.”

Stiles nods, trying to absorb all the new information. “And the other part? The visitation? Can he do that?”

“He’s probably going to ask for something called an after adoption agreement,” Lydia explains calmly. “It doesn’t impact your parental rights, but it will give Derek certain rights to have contact with Abby after the adoption. You and he will have to hash out the terms together. Typically the document outlines a minimum number of visits per year Derek is entitled to and the extent of contact outside those visits he’s entitled to -- by phone, email, social media, that sort of thing.”

“But I’d still be her dad,” Stiles clarifies.

“You’d still be her dad,” Lydia confirms. “Derek’s rights wouldn’t extend beyond the visits. He wouldn’t be able to sign forms for her or enroll her in school or visit her in the hospital without your say-so. He wouldn’t be able to act as her guardian unless you chose to appoint him. Legally speaking, he wouldn’t be a parent.”

“Oh my god, Lydia!” Stiles says, feeling tears well up in his eyes. “Is this for real? She’ll really be my daughter?”

“She’s already your daughter,” Lydia reminds him. “We’re just finally getting the law on the same page as your reality.”

Stiles can’t help himself. He stands up and pulls Lydia into a crushing hug.

“Thank you,” he says, voice muffled by her hair. “Seriously. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

 

* * *

 

Derek shows up early at Jennifer’s office.

After talking with Kira about his options, he’s actually feeling pretty good about his choices. He’s going to let Stilinski adopt Abby provided they can come to an agreement about visitation. Kira had bolstered him, talked him down from just walking away completely. She convinced him that he could be a positive influence in Abby’s life even if he wasn’t her legal parent.

Jennifer’s on the phone, facing away from her door, when Derek gets there, so he decides to wait patiently outside until she’s ready to see him.

“No, Kali. Of course I’m not going to settle it in mediation.” Jennifer says, then after a pause continues, “Yes, I know how important my reputation is to this firm. I win custody battles in court.”

Derek’s ears prick up with concern.

“Hale’s malleable,” Jennifer continues, responding to something the other person said, “I can get him to come around, maybe even go for full custody. It would be a huge win, especially for our supernatural clientele, getting that girl away from the human husband.”

What the hell? Derek fumes silently in the doorway, furious that his lawyer is openly admitting to manipulating him. He clears his throat loudly, and finds it oddly satisfying to see the fear in Jennifer’s eyes when she whips around and sees him.

“You,” he says, calmly holding out one finger to point at her, “are fired.”

He turns and starts walking back out of the office. Jennifer rushes after him, struggling to keep up with his quick pace in her too-high heels.

“Derek, this is all just a misunderstanding,” she says, perfect smile firmly in place. Only now Derek can see how fake it is.

“I don’t need a lawyer who’s too consumed with her professional reputation to actually care about my best interests, or the best interests of my daughter,” Derek says, not slowing down. He pushes open the door to the building and makes his way to his car.

“Derek!” Jennifer protests, her voice so sweet it’s cloying. “Of course I care about your best interests! And Annie’s.”

Derek stops then, actually stunned for a moment at how deep Jennifer’s apathy toward her clients goes. “Abby,” he tells her, “my daughter’s name is _Abby_.”

Jennifer’s smile falters.

“Your services are no longer required,” Derek says, firmly. Then he climbs in his car and drives away.

He gets to the mediation early, and sits down at the table to wait for everyone else to arrive.

Kira arrives next, and raises her eyebrows at the empty seat next to Derek.

“I fired Blake,” Derek says. “I didn’t have time to get another lawyer.”

“I didn’t want to say anything while she was your lawyer, but that might be for the best,” Kira says. “She kind of has a reputation, and it isn’t for amicable resolutions.”

Derek snorts. Blake had all but admitted that in front of him when she was on the phone.

When everyone else arrives and Derek explains Blake’s absence, the relief in the room is palpable, even from Morrell who had shown barely any emotion in their previous meeting.

“I’m representing myself now,” Derek says to Stiles and Ms. Martin, “so I kind of have to trust you not to screw me over.”

Kira lays out the plan she and Derek had discussed, granting Stiles the right to adopt Abby officially and Derek the right to keep in touch after the adoption, then opens it up to Derek and Stiles to discuss how much contact Derek will actually have with Abby.

“Remember,” Morell reminds them, “the terms you lay out today are the legal minimum amount of contact Mr. Hale is entitled to. Mr. Stilinski may grant or restrict additional contact as he sees fit, but he may not interfere with what is agreed to in this document.”

“I don’t want Abby travelling to New York to visit you,” Stilinski tells him. “At least not until she’s older. So I would prefer if all in-person visitation was restricted to Beacon Hills.”

Derek nods. He doesn’t think it’s particularly sensible to expect a five-year-old to travel back and forth across the country either. Still, he likes the idea of bringing his daughter to spend time with his pack some day.

“I’ll agree to no out of state visitation until she’s thirteen,” he counters. “But my visitation has to include occasional visits with other members of my pack, and I want her to be able to come my territory once she’s a teenager, whether that’s in New York or somewhere else.”

Stilinski purses his lips, before nodding and saying, “As long as the visits don’t interfere with her school schedule, I’ll agree to that.”

The meeting moves quickly from there, and they end up agreeing on one in-person visit per month, and a total of three “points of contact” per month, which include the in-person visit as well as phone calls or talking by Skype. Abby isn’t old enough for her own email or social media accounts yet, so they agree to leave those points out of the legal agreement and address them as the “additional contact” Stiles is allowed to grant Derek when it comes up.

“Well,” Morell says, “I’m glad we could all come to an agreement that seems to satisfy everyone. Ms. Yukimura, do you have any final thoughts?”

Kira looks pained for a moment, and says, “Oh my god, please don’t hate me for saying this: I think you should have a trial period.”

“What?” Stilinski yelps.

“What?” Derek echoes.

Ms. Morell looks at Kira thoughtfully, then says, “No, I think she’s right. Abby’s in a secure and stable position. I know we want the legal proceedings to be over with, but Abby’s current situation could continue indefinitely with no harm to her. This is a unique situation, and a trial period to make sure the agreement we’ve come to works in practice as well as theory will only serve to ensure that everyone is happy with the situation for years to come.”

“Exactly,” Kira says, “I propose that the involved parties live their lives in accordance with the agreement for a year before we make it legal. That way both parties can test to see if there are adjustments that need to be made. Derek might find that knowing Abby’s school break schedule in advance as well as any vacations Stiles plans to take her on will help him schedule his visits better. Stiles might find he wants a certain number of days notice prior to Derek scheduling a visit. They might find scheduling a phone call or skype session with Abby should be required if any visits are cancelled last minute.”

“Well, why can’t we just write that into the agreement now?” Stilinski says. “I mean, it’s sensible enough. I can forward Abby’s school schedule to Derek at the beginning of each school year and give him a heads up on vacations or immovable dates as soon as I learn them, he can give me at least a week’s notice before visiting. I don’t see why we have to wait an entire freaking year to make those changes.”

“You’re missing the point, Stiles,” Kira sighs. “Those are just random examples I was able to think up in the five minutes since you guys came to an agreement. Think of all the things you’ll figure out after actually trying this for a few months. This is a weird situation. There’s no pre-existing relationship between the two of you to help you figure out where you might butt heads down the road. You have no idea yet whether once a month is going to feel like Derek’s living at your house or like Abby barely gets to see him. You don’t know how Derek and Abby’s relationship will develop, or how your relationship with each other will develop for that matter. Maybe you’ll want to be present or have another person you trust around for each visit, or maybe letting Derek take Abby for day trips by himself or with other members of his pack will be ok. Right now, we’re trying to legally dictate so many brand new relationships and I can’t see it causing anything other than trouble if we try to pretend we’re this good at seeing into the future that we can lock it all in right now.”

She turns to Derek and says, “You know how long negotiations can take before two packs are able to form an alliance. We already talked about how you want to work toward that with the McCall pack. All I’m suggesting is that you take the same approach to forming a new relationship with Abby. Once these documents are signed, that’s forever. Your relationship with your daughter will be dictated by what’s written here from now until she’s an adult. Just -- take your time, think it through. Do a trial run before you commit.”

It makes sense, Derek thinks. He glances across the table at Stilinski, who’s giving Ms. Martin a resigned look. He’s willing to be the first one to give, if it helps ease the tension in the room.

“A year’s too long, I think,” Derek says. “Six months. We’ll try it out for six months, and at the end of it we’ll rework the after adoption agreement however we need to and I’ll go through with the conditional surrender agreement.”

He’s gratified to see the relief on Stilinski’s face when he proposes the shortened timeline.

“Six months I can do,” Stilinski agrees, nodding at Derek. “You let me know what weekend in March works for you.”

They shake hands as they get up to leave, and Stilinski even gives him a faint smile.

They part ways, and Derek feels some of the tension he’s been carrying around ever since he found out about Abby seep from his shoulders. The legal stuff is done. He gets to have a relationship with his daughter without taking her away from her home. Sure, commuting from New York to Beacon Hills once a month will be a pain in the neck, but it’s worth it.

* * *

“Hey, munchkin,” Stiles greets his daughter as she wanders into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Good sleep?”

Abby nods absently, pulling herself up into her booster seat. Stiles laughs to himself at how she looks seconds away from falling right back to sleep at the table.

“What do you want for breakfast, sleepyhead?” he asks.

She blinks slowly at him. She’s still in her PJs and her hair is a tangled mess from sleep.

“I want eggs,” she says, “and toast.”

“Eggs and toast, coming right up,” Stiles says. “Here, drink your OJ.” He hands her a plastic cup with a Disney princess on it, and she glares at it.

“I don’t want this one,” she pouts.

“Why not?” Stiles says. “It’s your princess cup. You love your princess cups.”

“This one’s Elsa,” Abby pouts, “I want Tiana.”

Stiles has genuinely no idea which princess his daughter’s talking about, so he lies through his teeth and says, “Tiana’s in the dishwasher right now. You can have your Tiana cup at lunchtime.”

That should at least buy him the time to figure out which cup she’s asking for and make sure it’s clean. She glares at him sleepily, like she knows he’s lying, and says, “Promise?”

“Absolutely,” Stiles says. “Now sip your juice while I make your eggs.”

Abby, thankfully, sips her juice from her Elsa cup without further comment.

By the time Stiles places her eggs and toast in front of her, she’s awake and cheerful, chattering about some story from kindergarten involving a boy from her class, the sandbox, and a worm.

“-- and then,” Abby says delightedly, “he _licked_ it!”

“Ewww!” Stiles says, ever the obedient audience member. “That’s gross!”

“Uh-huh,” Abby agrees, “but then Mrs. H. found out and made him put the worm over in the garden.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Stiles says. “Hey, do you know what we’re going to do today?”

Abby shakes her head.

“Do you remember Derek, who Kira took you to see at the library last month?” Stiles asks.

“Um…” Abby says, straining her memory for a moment before shaking her head.

“He was a friend of Mommy’s, and he’s a werewolf like you and Mommy and Uncle Scott,” Stiles prompts. “You don’t remember?”

Abby thinks a little more, and then says, “Oh yeah! He has black hair like me, and his wolfie eyes are red like Uncle Scotts! He was nice.”

“That’s him,” Stiles says, valiantly suppressing the urge to grit his teeth over how charmed Abby already is by Derek. “He asked if he could come over for a playdate today, is that ok with you?”

“Can I show him my ponies?” Abby asks.

“Sure, you can show him your ponies. I’m sure he’d love to meet Rainbow Sprinkles and Twilight Twinkles,” Stiles says.

“Daddy!” Abby protests, “That’s not their names!”

“It’s not?” Stiles says, feining shock, “Well, you better make sure Derek learns them right the first time.”

Derek’s plan is to come over around ten and stay through lunchtime, which gives Stiles a few more hours to get Abby through her morning routine and ready to meet Derek.

Derek arrives right on time, and Stiles witnesses the rare emergence of Shy!Abby. She’s normally a very outgoing child, and doesn’t have any trouble socializing with other kids, but every now and then, meeting a new grown-up sends her hiding behind Stiles’ legs and pretending she’s invisible.

After a token greeting to Stiles, Derek drops to his knees and says, “Hi, Abby. Do you remember me? We met at the library with Kira.”

Abby nods, but doesn’t emerge from behind Stiles’ legs.

“If you want,” Derek says, “we could read some more stories.”

“Daddy said I could show you my ponies,” Abby says.

“Ponies?” Derek asks, and looks up at Stiles for clarification. Right, because Derek is a grown man who _hasn’t_ been raising a little girl for the past five years.

“They’re, like, little plastic horse dolls,” he explains.

“They aren’t dolls!” Abby protests loudly.

“Right, of course. I keep forgetting,” Stiles says. “Why don’t you go show Derek where the ponies live?”

Abby takes that as her cue to take Derek’s hand and pull him over to the shelf where her toys are kept. Stiles watches in amusement as Derek’s eyes grow wide with alarm as Abby piles half a dozen plastic toy horses into his lap before going back to fetch their accessories.

“--and this is where they live,” Abby explains, as she pulls out a long length of folding fence pieces attached to a small pink and purple barn. She likes to arrange the ponies’ paddock into different shapes every time she plays, and Derek watches dutifully as she shows him how to assemble it.

“Daddy, you play Rainbow Dash,” Abby orders, and Stiles obediently sits down between her and Derek and picks up the pony with the rainbow colored mane and tail. Derek has been assigned a greyish blue pony, and Abby is playing as her favorite hot pink pony.

Stiles finds himself completely bemused by the way Derek happily makes up dialogue for his pony. He even gives her a goofy high voice that Abby absolutely loves.

He feels the deep, gnawing pit of worry that’s been sitting in his stomach ever since Derek introduced himself in the courthouse over two months ago finally start to abate. Maybe Derek Hale making his way into their lives won’t be such a bad thing after all.

 

* * *

 

Spending time with Abby and Stiles together is really nice, in Derek’s opinion. Abby’s much faster warming up to him this time, and it’s nice to see her completely at ease in her home, rather than continually catching herself being too loud for the library.

And Stiles… well. Stiles is pretty great, if Derek’s being honest. It was a little awkward to start, but being at home and playing with Abby, Stiles relaxes in no time. He’s patient and funny with Abby, and he keeps flashing Derek these amazing smiles any time Derek plays along with Abby's imaginary games.

It’s clear to Derek that every other time he and Stiles have been in the same room, Stiles has been on the defensive, that this person Derek’s finally able to meet today is the _real_ Stiles.

They fall into a comfortable rhythm as they spend the day together. Stiles’ hands brush across Derek’s shoulders, and touch at his waist as they move around one another making sandwiches for lunch in the kitchen. Their knees knock together gently as they read Abby a story before her nap.

Derek feels comfortable in a way he hasn’t since his family was killed. He loves his pack, but they still fit together awkwardly, each of them with their own jagged edges the others need to be careful of. Spending the day with Stiles and Abby, Derek remembers what pack is _supposed_ to feel like, or maybe just what family should feel like.

After three naptime stories, Stiles finally kicks Derek out of Abby’s room, saying, “She’ll never go to sleep if you’re in here being all novel and interesting.”

Derek leaves the two of them alone to their normal nap time routine, wandering to the kitchen where he finds himself collecting their lunch dishes and loading them into the dishwasher.

He wanders back to the living room, and finds himself glancing at the framed photos that decorate the room. Most of them are of Abby, grinning out at him from various ages. He catches himself smiling softly at one of Stiles holding up a roughly two-year-old Abby in the shallow end of a swimming pool. They look happy, Derek thinks. He feels oddly sad he wasn’t there to share the moment.

“Ok,” Stiles whispers, grinning slightly as he tip-toes back into the room, “she’s finally asleep. She wrangled two more stories out of me after I kicked you out.”

“How long will she be out for?” Derek asks.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Half an hour, if I’m lucky,” Stiles says, keeping his voice low. “If she goes for more than forty five minutes, I’ll wake her up or else she won’t get to sleep tonight.”

“I’ll help you clean up,” Derek offers, collecting up Abby’s toys from the carpet.

“Oh, gosh -- you don’t have to do that,” Stiles protests.

“It’s fine,” Derek insists. “Where should I put these?”

“Abby’s shelves are over there,” Stiles says, pointing to a short set of square cubby holes under the front window. “There’s no real order to it, just go ahead and fit stuff in wherever there’s room.”

Derek nods, and starts placing things on the shelves in what he hopes make some sort of logical sense. Stiles kneels down beside him, playfully knocking their shoulders together before putting away his own armload of stuff.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Han Solo got saved from carbonite by My Little Pony,” Derek says with amusement.

“You know,” Stiles says, turning to face Derek with an easy grin, “I always thought there was something a little off about Leia.”

They sit there smiling at each other, on their knees as they put away Abby’s toys. It seems so natural for Derek to lean in and press their lips together. So he does.

Stiles melts into the kiss for a moment, kissing Derek back enthusiastically. But only for a moment, because then he puts both his hands on Derek’s chest and shoves.

“What the fuck, Derek?” he hisses angrily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What the actual fuck was that?”

Derek doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing.

“My _wife_ just died, you asshole,” Stiles spits at him. “I’m still in mourning. How fucking dare you?”

“I’m sorry,” Derek says softly, reeling back to put more space between himself and Stiles. “I thought --”

“Thought what?” Stiles demands, “Thought making a move on the widower who’s raising your biological child was in any universe a good idea? Because it’s not. This,” he gestures between them, “is a bad fucking idea.”

Derek feels sick. Of course this was a mistake. Of course he misread Stiles’ signals. He's gone and jeopardized his brand new relationship with his daughter. It’s just like him to finally have some sense of family and for him to screw it up with a kiss.

“You’re right,” he says, gruffly to hide how vulnerable he feels, “it was a mistake. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I’ll go.”

Stiles nods, not looking at him, and Derek rushes to gather his jacket and make his way out the front door.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles can’t stop touching his mouth. It’s not -- he’s not a _kid_ , alright? It’s not like he’s trying to wipe away phantom Derek-germs. But his mouth won’t stop tingling, and Stiles can’t stop reliving the way Derek’s lips felt against his. The way his beard was surprisingly soft. The way it had felt good up until it registered that _Derek was kissing him_ , which Derek is absolutely not allowed to do.

He must have sounded pretty shaken up over the phone, because his dad made it to his house in record time to keep an eye on Abby, and Scott actually cancelled a date with Kira so that Stiles could come over.

“I just can’t believe he _kissed_ me, Scott!” Stiles raves. He may be getting a bit repetitive at this point. Scott’s sitting at the breakfast bar, watching Stiles pace. “He just walks up to me with that stupid, sexy beard and lays one on me like it’s all perfectly normal. Who even does that?”

“Um…” Scott says, wrinkling his nose in confusion, “did you just call Derek Hale sexy?”

“What?” Stiles scoffs, pulling himself out of the chaos going on inside his head to shoot Scott a glare. “No! Of course not. I’m outraged here, Scott. How do you not find this completely outrageous? Who the hell does he think he is, with his muscles and his leather jacket, coming into my house and smiling all attractive-like and kissing me without my permission?”

“Uh huh,” Scott says, but he sounds more amused than indignant on Stiles’ behalf. “Are you sure you weren’t doing that thing you do sometimes where you were flirting without realizing you were flirting?”

“What the hell, Scott?” Stiles says, finally stopping in his tracks to glare angrily at his friend. “Whose side are you on, here? I was minding my own damned business, letting him visit with Abby like we agreed. Besides, I only do the accidental flirting thing with people I’m attracted to. You’ve seen me! I don’t just accidentally flirt with any Tom, Dick, or friggin'  _Derek_ in off the street.”

“And obviously you aren’t, like, secretly attracted to him or anything, right?” Scott says. There’s a faint teasing smile on his lips, the same one Scott used all through high school and college whenever Stiles would start talking incessantly about his latest crush. Stiles hasn’t seen that smile since Scott used it when they first met Kelly, and seeing it now makes him seethingly angry.

“Scott! I’m _married!_ ” Stiles practically shouts.

Scott’s smile drops, but he’s quiet as he lets Stiles realize his mistake.

“I _was_ married,” Stiles corrects himself softly.

“Stiles --” Scott says, reaching out for Stiles’ shoulder.

“No, shut up a second, ok?” Stiles says defensively, batting Scott’s hand away. “I’m allowed to still be hung up on my wife. I’m allowed to not be ready to even think about anybody else that way. She’s -- it’s barely been three months. I still wake up every morning expecting to see her beside me. I still have to remember every morning that she’s not here anymore.”

His hand falls to his wedding ring, and he twists it around on his finger as he continues, “I’m still in love with her. Even though she’s not here anymore, I still love her. And I’m not ready to let that go.”

Scott’s eyes watch Stiles’ hands, his right thumb and forefinger twisting a gold band around his left ring finger.

“Your dad still wears his ring,” Scott observes, voice careful. “He loved your mom so much, and it’s been twenty years since she died, and he still wears his ring.”

Stiles feels tears pricking at his eyes as the old hurt mingles with the new. He can’t look at Scott, so he stares out the kitchen window and tries to pretend that tears aren’t tracing hot trails down his cheeks.

“Your dad loves you, he loves Abby, and he loves his job, and this town,” Scott says, standing and laying a gentle hand on Stiles’ shoulder, “But he still loves your mom enough to wear that ring. He hasn’t dated, hasn’t opened himself up to anyone new. He saved that part of himself for your mom for all these years, and I don’t know that it’s made him or you any happier. I don’t think he wants the same for you and Abby.”

Stiles sniffles wetly, and he hitches a sob that sounds more or less like his best friend’s name. Scott pulls him close, hugging him tightly.

“It’s ok that you aren’t ready,” Scott says lowly by his ear, his arms clinging tightly around Stiles’ back. “It’s ok to take your time and to miss her. We all miss her. But don’t lock that part of yourself away forever, ok? You don’t have to be ready for it right now, but some day it’s gonna be ok for you to fall in love again. Kelly would want that for you.”

Stiles cries heavily into Scott’s shoulder, chest heaving with emotions so heavy it feels like they’ll suffocate him. His hands tangle in Scott’s shirt as his friend rocks him through the tears and the sobs. He misses his wife so sharply it feels like a literal pain through his chest. He feels a stab of hatred toward Derek, for picking open this scab that he isn’t ready to deal with yet. He knows it isn’t fair to the other man, but the feeling burns in him anyway.

 

* * *

 

Derek’s exhausted by the time he lands in New York. He caught an earlier plane than he was scheduled on, not feeling like staying in Beacon Hills a second longer than he needed to after screwing up so royally, so no one from his pack is there to meet him.

He catches a cab back to Brooklyn, and lets himself into the house to be greeted by the startled looks on his beta’s faces.

“You’re home early,” Isaac says tentatively. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Derek quickly assures him, hating the way Isaac still gets skittish and meek around him when he thinks he screwed up. If his father weren’t already dead, Derek would kill the man himself. “I caught an early plane. I didn’t think to call you guys until I was already in the air, so I just caught a cab.”

“Everything ok, boss?” Erica asks, with more concern than is really normal for her. “You look kinda rough. Did something go wrong with meeting Abby?”

“Visiting Abby was fine,” Derek says. “Great, even. I just might have fucked things up with Stiles.”

The whole story comes tumbling out. How Abby had been shy at first but warmed up to him quickly, how Stiles played along with them and helped Derek understand all the intricacies of Abby’s make-believe world. How being in their home and spending time with them had reminded him of family, and how he let himself feel comfortable with them in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

And how he’d gone and thrown it all away on some stupid kiss.

Boyd lets out a low whistle when the story is over.

"I thought you said he was a jackass," Isaac says. "Do you even actually like him, or did you just get caught up in the moment?"

Derek thinks about it. He's been asking himself the same question. "He's... He was different today, with Abby. He wasn't so on-guard," he says. "Being with them, I felt like I did when my family was still alive. I don't think I would have felt that way if there wasn't something there."

“I think it makes sense for you and Stiles to be together,” Alicia declares, voice solemn with the gravity of her fourteen year old wisdom. “You’re Abby’s dad, he’s Abby’s dad. And think how nice it would be for Abby if her dads fell in love with each other.”

"It's not that easy. Stiles needs to grieve before he's ready to move on with anyone," Derek tries to explain. 

"So wait til he's done grieving!" Alicia says.

Derek wishes he saw the world as simply as his teenaged beta, wishes things could be as easy as that.

“Leesh, people don’t fall in love because it’s convenient,” Boyd tells his sister gently.

"But Derek already likes Stiles," Alicia presses. "Now all he has to do is convince Stiles to like him back. Derek, you should  _woo_ him! It would be so romantic!"  


"Leesh, sweetheart. Please just take our word for it that Derek trying to woo Stiles would be a bad idea right now," Erica says, rolling her eyes. "This isn't a romance novel. Derek can't just kiss a widower and have him swoon gratefully into his arms."

Alicia huffs an annoyed sigh, and Derek lets his head drop to the kitchen counter.

“I just feel like such an asshole,” Derek says. “I mean, what the hell was I thinking? Kelly was his _wife_ and she only died a couple of months ago. And now I’m, what, moving in on her husband and her kid all at once?”

“Hey!” Erica scolds, “Yeah, you fucked up. You kissed a guy you shouldn’t’ve and he reacted badly. That sucks. It doesn’t take away from the fact that Abby’s your kid and you have every right to know her. Don’t let screwing up with Stiles drive you away from getting to know your daughter, Derek.”

The small, cowardly part of Derek that wants to hide in New York and never face Stiles ever again recoils at Erica’s words. He wants to bury his head in the sand and pretend his afternoon with Stiles never happened, but then he thinks about the way Abby had squealed in delight every time he used a silly voice for a character in one of her books, and the crazy stories she invented for the ponies, and he knows he can’t just let her go.

He needs to smooth things over with Stiles, somehow. But he’s exhausted, so it will have to be something he deals with in the morning.

 

* * *

 

After the tears have passed, Stiles washes his face and lets Scott drive him home. Abby’s awake and happily playing with Stiles’ dad.

“Daddy!” Abby greets him with a grin. “You weren’t here when I woke up, and I was scared. But Grandpa said it was ok because you just had to go talk to Uncle Scott about grownup things. Hi Uncle Scott! Are you gonna come play?”

“Hey, Abbs!” Scott says with a wave, “I can’t stay today, but I’ll come by later and play with you, alright?” Abby nods and turns back to the puzzle she and the Sheriff are working on.

“You alright, man?” Scott asks quietly. Stiles nods, and leans in for a last hug before Scott heads back to his car.

Stiles joins Abby and his dad at the kitchen table, dropping a kiss to the top of Abby’s head as he sits.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he tells her. “I’m sorry you got scared.”

“It’s ok,” Abby says, focusing most of her attention on the puzzle piece she’s trying to find a spot for. “Grandpa brought a puzzle. The box says ages seven to twelve, but Grandpa says he thinks I can do it even though I’m only five because I’m advanced!”

“You are very advanced,” Stiles agrees. “How are you doing so far?”

“Good. Grandpa helps when I get stuck,” Abby tells him.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, looking up at his dad, “Grandpa’s pretty great like that.”

His dad smiles back at him, but his eyes are assessing. “You doing ok, son?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Stiles says quickly, “Scott helped. I’ll tell you about it later, ok?”

His dad looks at him for a long moment, then turns to Abby and says, “Hey, munchkin. Now that your Dad’s back, how about we save the rest of this puzzle for later and head to the park?”

Abby’s head pops up excitedly. “Can we stop at the playground?” she asks.

“Of course we can stop at the playground,” Stiles says, resigned to his dad’s impending interrogation. “Come on, let’s find your shoes and your coat.”

The park is walking distance from Stiles’ house. It’s one of the things Stiles likes best about it. Abby holds Stiles’ hand for the walk along the street, but sprint ahead to the playground the second they cross over into the park.

The second she’s away, Stiles feels his dad’s hand land solidly on his shoulder.

“So,” his dad says, “you want to tell me what’s going on? Does this have anything to do with the fact that Hale’s visit with Abby was today?”

Stiles sighs. “The visit with Abby went fine,” he says. “Great, actually. They really got along, but De-- Hale didn’t push anything too hard with her. It was a really good visit, and then I put Abby down for her nap, and…”

Stiles scrubs his face. He’s never been good about talking to his dad about relationship stuff. Asking for his advice always feels like it’s skirting a little too close to the line of bringing up Mom and making them both feel sad and hurt at her loss. The Sheriff had never been shy about his acceptance of Kelly, had loved her like his own daughter, but despite letting Stiles know how much he approved of the relationship, they’d never really talked about it.

Still, if anyone knows exactly what Stiles is going through right now, it’s his dad. His dad, who’s looking at him with an expression that says, you will tell me what’s going on if I have to drag it out of you.

“Derek…kind of… made a pass at me before he left,” Stiles admits, and watches his dad’s eyes go wide with shock.

“A pass? What does that mean, ‘a pass’?” his dad demands, looking angry. “If he harassed you, I will get a restraining order against him so fast--”

“Dad, no,” Stiles protest, “Stop it. He just -- he kissed me, alright? It was really fast, and I pushed him off and told him it was inappropriate, and then he apologised and left. I don’t think it will happen again, but it just kind of… I freaked a little, is all.”

“Of course you did!” Stiles’ dad says. “The man assaulted you!”

“No! No, he didn’t fucking assault me. It was… fuck--” Stiles tries to figure out how to tell his dad it was actually sort of sweet. How, the longer Stiles thinks about it, the more he realizes how good it felt for that one moment before Stiles got his bearings and pushed Derek away. How Stiles is practically drowning in guilt from enjoying it.

“Look. The last thing I want to do is make a bigger deal of this than it is, ok? I just needed to talk to my best friend and process things. But it’s over now. It’s done. Derek doesn’t come back until next month, and by then this stupid kiss thing will be forgotten.”

The Sheriff looks sceptical, and asks, “What did Scott think of all this?”

Stiles isn’t really ready to deal with what Scott had to say on the matter, so he just says, “Scott’s an idiot. Nobody should listen to him.”

Stiles’ dad sighs. “Son, do you remember the time you broke your arm playing with Scott when you boys were ten?”

Stiles glowers, knowing exactly where this story is heading.

“You jumped off the roof with an umbrella like you were goddamn Mary Poppins, and Scott ran to get Melissa and me. And do you remember what happened next?” his dad says.

Stiles does. Because this story has been told over and over throughout his childhood. He thinks it even made it into somebody’s wedding toast.

“Melissa came up to you and said Scott had told her you hurt yourself, and you said--”

“I said ‘Scott’s an idiot and nobody should listen to him,’” Stiles finishes.

“Yes you did,” his dad says, “because in your infinite ten year old wisdom, you thought you could heal a broken arm before I noticed anything was wrong and you didn’t want to get in trouble.”

They sit there mulling that as they watch Abby race around with other kids in some sort of monkey bar tag game, the rules of which are not particularly clear to an outside observer.

Stiles knows he’s being waited out. He knows his dad is trying to exploit his need to fill silences. But talking about what Scott had said with his dad is just --

The thing is, Stiles knows there isn’t any way to have that conversation without his dad getting hurt. There’s no way to talk about it without making it sound like he’s judging his dad’s choices. But at the end of the day, Scott has no idea what it’s like to have a spouse die and be left alone to raise a child. Stiles’ dad does.

So Stiles caves, just like his dad knew he would, and says, “Scott thinks that even if now isn’t the right time and Derek isn’t the right person, it could be healthy for me and Abby if I, you know someday, decided to move on. Um, romantically.”

He’s staring at his feet as he says it, but he feels his dad stiffen beside him nevertheless.

There’s quiet again, tenser this time as Stiles waits for his father to react.

Finally, he sighs and says, “You know, kiddo. Of all the well-meaning nosy-as-hell folks in this town who took it upon themselves to tell me I ought to remarry after your mother died, I don’t think a single one of them brought up that it might be healthy for me to move on romantically. I had a lotta people telling me, you know, a boy needs a mother. That I needed a woman’s touch around the house. Every time someone brought it up, I felt like they were reducing your mom to less than she was. She was a wife to me, and a mother to you. But more than that, she was a person that both of us loved. The idea of replacing her, like she was just a broken fixture that could be swapped out for a new one, it didn’t sit well with me.”

His dad pauses, thinking carefully about his words.

“Don’t try and replace Kelly,” he says finally. “That girl was smart and funny and so good for you, and for Abby. She’s irreplaceable. You’ll always hold her in your heart. But your hearts a big one, kid. You’ve got enough room for me, and Abby, and Scott, and your whole pack. You don’t have to let your wife go in order to make room to love somebody else.”

“Do you regret it?” Stiles asks, “That you never moved on?”

“I don’t know, kid,” his dad sighs. “I’m glad I never forced a stepmom you would have hated and resented on you. I’m glad I didn’t get sucked into pity dates. There are times it would’ve been nice to have a partner, but I -- your mom was the only person I ever wanted to raise a family with. It felt unfair to try and start something with someone who was only ever gonna be second best.”

Stiles nods, thinking over his dad’s words. There’s not much else to say, so they sit quietly until Abby comes running over and starts pulling Stiles by the hand, demanding to be pushed on the swings.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Derek comes back to Beacon Hills for his next visit with Abby feeling like an idiot, and a jerk. He’d been making progress getting to know his daughter, and getting on good terms with Stiles, and then he had to go and blow it by reading too much into Stiles’ friendliness.

He’d emailed Stiles the day after everything, but had never gotten a reply. There was a perfunctory email a few weeks later asking when Derek wanted to schedule his next visit and listing the dates that worked for Abby and Stiles, but there was no mention of the kiss or acknowledgement of the apology.

Seeing Stiles in person again is going to be his only chance to make sure Stiles understands how sorry he is. He’s been rehearsing his apology to Stiles for the entire plane ride.

He rings the doorbell at Stiles’ house, his feet shifting nervously as he tries to prepare himself for seeing Stiles again.

The door swings open, and Derek says quickly, “Stiles, I wanted to say that I’m sor--”

He cuts himself off as he realizes that it’s Scott’s face, looking amused, on the other side of the door.

“Stiles is upstairs with Abby,” Scott says. “He’ll be down in a sec. Why don’t you come in?”

Derek nods and follows Scott into the house. Stiles and Abby come thundering down the stairs moments later, as Stiles calls, “Alright! We have new clothes that aren’t covered in mud on. Scott, you got her? I think I’m gonna take off before --”

He stops as he spots Derek standing beside Scott. “Oh,” he says, “Derek, you’re here already. Great.” His expression begs to differ.  “Alright, well in that case I’m just gonna leave Abby with the two of you, and I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

He grabs his coat and opens the door.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Derek asks.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Don’t worry, Scott’s gonna stay with you and Abby. He knows her routine.”

“But why--”

“Look,” Stiles interrupts, “You’re here to get to know Abby, and I’m -- Kira’s managed to talk me around to supporting that, ok? But I just --” he blows out a harsh breath and scrubs a hand across the back of his neck, “I don’t think you and I should spend any more time together.”

“Stiles, I’m sorry about what happened last time. It won’t happen again, I promise,” Derek says, and it feels pleading.

“I accept your apology,” Stiles says, “but I’m still gonna go. Whatever awkwardness is happening between you and me, that shouldn’t affect your relationship with Abby. She’s --” he squares his shoulders, bracing himself to push out the words, “she’s your daughter, too. You have a right to see her, and she has a right to know who you are. But you don’t have a right to a relationship with _me_ , Derek. If I decide that it’s better for Abby and better for me to not be here when you visit, you need to respect that.”

Derek flinches at Stiles’ words, then nods, accepting Stiles’ decision. “I guess I’ll see you around then?” he says.

Stiles hesitates, then says, “I’ll email you to schedule next month.” Then he rushes down the front walkway and climbs into his car.

“Derek, man, c’mon!” Scott calls from the living room, “We’re making Lego castles, and we need your help!”

Abby smiles at him when he enters the living room, her initial shyness from his first two visits completely gone.

“You can help me build the princess tower!” she announces as he sits down beside her.

“Princess tower? Is that where all the princesses live?” Derek asks, picking up some lego pieces and trying to figure out if Abby’s trying to build the tower with a specific color scheme.

“There’s just one princess, silly! She lives in the castle with her best friend the dragon,” Abby informs him. “Here, you put the red ones on, and I’ll do the blue ones.”

“Is blue your favorite color?” Derek asks.

“Uh huh,” Abby nods, “but I like purple, too. And pink! And green! And rainbow!”

“Rainbow, huh? What about polka dot?” Derek asks.

“Polka dot’s not a color!” says Abby.

“It’s not! What is it?” asks Derek.

“It’s a pattern, like stripes or checkerboard,” Abby says authoritatively. Then she squints in focus at her princess tower.

“We need a roof now,” she announces.

Scott reaches into the bin and produces a plastic yellow cone covered in a thatching pattern. He presents it to Abby with a flourish. Abby beams at him, and places the yellow roof carefully atop her tower.

“Hey Abby, do the princess and her dragon have lots of friends who like to visit them at the castle?” Scott asks casually.

“Yes!” Abby exclaims. “They’re best friends with all the ponies!” She grabs several of her pony dolls and trots them over to the castle.

“Here, Derek, you play Luna. Uncle Scott always plays Scootaloo.” Abby says, passing Derek a dark blue horse with a wavy mane. Scott picks up the orange and purple horse he’s obviously accustomed to playing with.

“I bet if Luna was ever mean to the dragon, the princess wouldn’t let her visit anymore. Right, Abby?” Scott says, his eyes locking one Derek.

Abby looks affronted at the thought. “No one is allowed to be mean to the dragon! The dragon is the princess’s very, very, _very_ best friend!”

“I think the princess should be allowed to ban anyone who was mean to the dragon from the kingdom forever and ever. Don’t you think so, Abbs?”

Abby nods furiously. “No meanies are allowed in my castle,” she says fiercely.

“Well, I’m sure Luna would never be mean to the dragon on purpose,” Derek says, meeting Scott’s eyes. “And even if she ever accidentally upset the dragon, I am sure she would be very sorry and promise to behave more nicely from then on.”

Abby considers this for a moment, then says, “Ok. Luna can stay.”

“Whatever the princess wants,” Scott says with a smirk in Derek’s direction.

Derek rolls his eyes. He expected some flack from the other alpha after his screw up, but he wasn’t expecting a shovel talk via my little pony. Still, all things considered he knows he got off easy.

Not long after that, Scott leaves Derek and Abby alone so he can go make lunch. Derek’s not stupid enough to think that the other alpha won’t be listening in for any trouble, but he appreciates the illusion of privacy with his daughter. Abby asks Derek to read her a story, and they settle down on the couch with a book about a dancing mouse named Angelina.

It’s clearly a favorite, since Abby is reading along with him, though it’s hard to tell how much she’s actually reading and how much she’s simply memorized. Soon enough, she gets bored of the book and turns to Derek with a questioning gaze

“Why is it so long since last time you visited?” Abby asks.

“Well,” Derek says, trying to figure out how to explain visitation rights. It’s too complicated, and he doesn’t want to step on Stiles’ toes when it comes to explaining things, so he just tells her, “I live all the way in New York. Do you know where New York is?”

Abby shakes her head. Derek tries to think of how to show her, then pulls out his phone and googles _'USA map'_. He pulls up an image of a map and shows it to Abby.

“Have you seen this before?” he asks.

Abby nods, and says, “That’s the whole country! At school we have a song, it goes; Fifty Nifty United States from 13 original colonies!”

“Very nice,” Derek tells her, “and do you know where we are on the map right now?”

“Um…” Abby contemplates, before sticking her finger on the left side of the map, landing right around San Diego.

“That’s close!” Derek tells her, “We’re in California, but a little further north than that. Right around,” he moves her finger to midway between San Francisco and the Oregon border, “here. And then New York is all the way on the opposite side,” he picks her finger up again and drops it right on New York City, “here.”

“That’s far,” Abby says, her eyes wide.

“Yep, it’s really far,” Derek agrees, “and that’s why I only get to come see you once a month.”

“A month is long,” Abby says.

“Sometimes a month feels long,” Derek agrees, “but it’s not as long as some things.”

“Like what?” Abby asks.

“Like a year,” Derek says, “Or a decade, which is ten years. Or a century. Do you know how long a century is?”

“Twenty years?” Abby guesses.

“A hundred years,” Derek says. “That’s a really long time, I think.”

“Oh,” Abby says, awed. “A month isn’t so bad, I guess.”

When it’s time for him to go, Abby gives Derek a long hug and makes him promise twice that he’ll be back next month. For the first time since he and Stiles came to their agreement, Derek feels guilty about leaving her.

 

* * *

 

“Daddy, what’s Derek?” Abby asks around a yawn.

“Whaddya mean, sugarbean?” Stiles asks, tucking her covers tight around her.

“Well, Kira says he’s my bibilogical father,” Abby says.

“Close enough,” Stiles says, unable to suppress a smile.

“And father’s just a fancy grown-up word for Daddy, right?”

Stiles sighs. “Baby girl, I’m your daddy. Always and forever.”

“But today you told Derek I’m his daughter, too,” Abby says. “Does that mean you’re both my daddy?”

“You heard that?” Stiles asks, and feels guilty for not taking more precautions against being overheard when Abby nods.

Stiles sits down beside Abby, and says, “Do you remember back when we had that talk about where babies come from?”

Abby nods. “A mommy and a daddy work together to make a baby, and then the baby goes to live in mommy’s tummy until it grows enough to be born.”

“That’s right,” says Stiles. “But the thing is, I didn’t meet mommy until after you were already made and living in her tummy. I became your daddy because I loved your mommy very, very much and I love you very, very much, and all that love made us a family.”

Abby’s quiet for a little bit. Then she asks, “Did Derek help Mommy make me?”

“Yes, Derek helped your mommy make you, and then he had to go away.” Stiles says, watching his daughter’s reaction carefully.

Abby nods like that makes perfect sense. “Because he lives in New York, right?” she says, “New York is very far away, and that’s why Derek can only visit sometime and not all the time.”

Stiles pauses, and realizes Abby and Derek must have had a conversation about New York during his visit. It’s as good an explanation as any for their current situation.

“Right,” he agrees.

Abby fidgets with her blankie and Stiles watches quietly, hoping all the new information doesn’t upset her.

When Abby speaks again, her voice is quiet and shy and Stiles has to strain to hear it.

“Do you think,” she says, “do you think if I asked nicely, Derek would want to be my daddy again?”

Her words feel like a knife to the chest. He knows, on some level, that she’s not rejecting him. He does. His daughter loves him and he _knows_ that, but listening to her ask if another man will be her daddy just guts him.

He tries to pull himself together, to come up with a nice, diplomatic answer that will make Abby feel loved and wanted without putting Derek in a tight spot. But he can’t find his words.

Abby notices his distress, because of course she does, and she instantly climbs out from under her covers and wraps her arms around his neck.

“Daddy, I didn’t mean it!” she cries, peppering kisses along his cheek and his forehead the way he and Kelly have always done for her when she’s upset, “Daddy, I still love you most, I promise.”

“I know, baby girl,” Stiles tells her, “I know, it’s ok. I’m not upset with you.”

Abby sniffles against his cheek.

“Abby, sweetheart, listen to me,” Stiles says. “You’re allowed to ask me anything, ok? Even if it hurts my feelings, you’re allowed to ask me, ok?”

Abby nods, her face still buried in Stiles’ neck.

“And,” Stiles hesitates over the next few words, fretting over how much it feels like he’s giving part of Abby up, “you’re allowed to have two daddies. If that’s what you want.”

Abby pulls back to look at him. Her eyes are still a bit watery, but she’s not crying. She looks achingly hopeful as she asks, “Really?”

Stiles nods. “We still have to talk to Derek,” he tells her, “and ask him what he wants. And even if he says yes, he’ll still live in New York and only be able to visit sometimes. Do you understand?”

Abby nods, but doesn’t look entirely sure about it.

“We’ll talk about this more in the morning, ok?” Stiles says. “I’ll email Derek and ask him to Skype with us. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Abby agrees.

“Alright, then. Back to bed with you. It’s way past your bedtime,” Stiles says, tucking her back in and kissing her forehead. “Love you, Abbers.”

“Love you, too, Daddy.” Abby says around a yawn, already half asleep.

Stiles checks that her night light is on before switching the lamp off and slipping out of her room.

He pulls out his phone and starts writing an email to Derek:

_Hi Derek -_

_Hope you had a safe flight back to NY. Abby really enjoyed your visit. Hope you did too. She has something she’d like to ask you, so I wanted to check your schedule and set up a time to Skype. Abby’s in school during the week until 2.30pm, so any time after 3 PST works for us._

_If possible, I’d like to talk with you one on one before the call with Abby. Let me know when the best time to reach you is._

_Thanks,_

_Stiles_

Stiles frowns at his screen. It’s a little stiff and formal, especially since what Abby wants is essentially to ask Derek to be part of their family, but Stiles is hesitant to be overly friendly. Their last conversation didn’t exactly leave them on the best of terms, and Stiles wants to be cautious about anything that might be considered leading Derek on.

He waffles on it for a few more moments, then presses send.

It’s hardly five minutes later when his phone rings.

“I just got your email,” Derek tells him after he picks up. “Figured you’d still be up.”

“Yeah, I, uh,” Stiles fidgets and settles down on the couch, “I didn’t think you’d get back to me about that until morning.”

“I can call back then if that’s better for you,” Derek offers.

Stiles pulls his phone away from his head and mutters, “Ugh, why couldn’t you just be an asshole?” viciously before putting the phone back up to his ear

“You wish I was an asshole?” Derek asks. He sounds kind of offended, which Stiles supposes is fair.

“Of course you heard that,” Stiles groans into the receiver, “because of your damn werewolf hearing.” Which Abby shares, he thinks darkly, which is why he’s having this conversation in the first place.

“Look, I’m trying really hard to be a good guy, ok?” Derek says, a little snappishly. “I’m trying to do right by Abby, I’m trying to get to know her without disrupting your life more than I have to. And I know I’ve made mistakes, Stiles, but you can’t --”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, “I’m not trying to attack you here. You weren’t supposed to hear that, I’ve been doing a shitty job of accounting for werewolf hearing lately. I didn’t ask you to call so I could pick a fight, I swear. I’m just tired, and frustrated.”

An awkward silence stretches out between them. It feels like Derek’s trying not to comfort him, like Derek _would_ be if Stiles hadn’t so intentionally put distance between them last time they spoke.

It kinda sucks, because Stiles could really use some comfort right about now.

“So Abby kinda overheard our last conversation,” he says, breaking the silence. “She heard me call her your daughter.”

“Oh,” Derek says softly, his voice full of surprise.

“Yeah. Oh,” Stiles echoes. “So I talked to her about it tonight, and she understands as well as the age-appropriate version of the birds and the bees will allow, and she wants to ask you -- fuck.” He rubs his forehead, struggling to get the words out without feeling like he’s giving up his daughter. “She has a friend at school who has two daddies, and she asked me if it would be ok for her to ask you to be her daddy, too.”

The silence stretches on so long that Stiles is worried he dropped the call.

“Derek? Are you still there?” he asks, worried he’ll have to call back and say all that again.

“Yeah, I’m --” Derek clears his throat. “She wants that?

“Look, I just wanted to give you a heads-up, ok?” Stiles says, “I didn’t want you to be blindsided when she asks next time you guys skype.”

“I’d be honored,” Derek says, “If Abby decides to ask, if she doesn’t change her mind or forget by the time I talk to her, I would be honored to be her second Daddy.”

Stiles nods numbly, then realizes that even werewolves can’t hear a nod over the phone, so he says, “Yeah, ok. Good, then.”

“So listen, I was thinking. I want to introduce my pack to yours, but I don’t want you guys to feel like we’re invading your territory,” Derek says, and Stiles wonders how badly he was projecting his desire to change topics. “So I was wondering, how do you feel about a joint pack vacation? We could rent a big place on the beach, let everyone co-mingle on neutral territory. Erica and Alicia think it could be fun.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Could be fun,” Stiles says. “I’ll float it by Scott and we’ll get back to you, but I can pretty much guarantee he’ll be glad not to have to play host alpha. Did you have dates in mind?”

They agree that the week after Abby’s school lets out would be perfect, and Stiles emails Scott with the idea and the proposed dates. Derek has to leave for work, which gives them a good excuse to end the call without any awkwardness, and Stiles feels better than he thought he would when he hangs up.

 


	9. Chapter 9

“Ohmigosh, Bossman! I can’t wait to finally meet your kid!” Alicia says, bouncing in her seat as they pull up to the rental house they’ll be sharing with the McCall pack for the next week. The house is enormous, which makes Derek feel a bit better. He had spent the whole plane ride worried he hadn’t booked a place with enough beds for everyone.

“Stiles and Abby aren’t coming down until tomorrow,” Derek reminds his beta. 

Alicia whines.

“Scott and the rest of his pack will be here today. We didn’t want meeting my daughter to overshadow meeting Scott’s pack. We want this meeting to go well, so best behavior, alright?” He directs the last part to his pack at large, who nod and agree.

There’s several cars in the driveway, letting Derek know that the McCall pack has already arrived. Scott comes out to greet them as soon as they park, Derek’s pack eagerly piling out of the car. 

“Hey, Derek!” Scott greets cheerily. “This must be your pack!”

He calls his own pack out, and Derek is pleased with how smoothly the introductions go. He’s already met a lot of Scott’s pack, including Lydia and her husband Jackson, Allison, who he’s only met briefly in a meeting with her dad months ago, and Kira, who isn’t  officially pack yet, but that’s just semantics given that she and Scott are happily dating now. He’s heard a lot about Scott’s teenaged betas, but hasn’t met them until now. 

Malia, Liam, and Mason all shake hands with Derek with varying degrees of polite disinterest, but seem more than happy to bring Alicia into their group, which is a huge relief. The four of them disappear into the house quickly.

“The kids decided to set up a blanket fort in the living room where they’re all sleeping,” Scott explains. “They’re probably going to help Alicia set up her spot and expand the fort.”

“Oh, that’s good, I guess,” Derek says.

“Leesh hasn’t had much of a chance to hang out with other werewolves her age,” Boyd points out. “This is good for her.”

“Well, technically it’s one teen wolf, one teen coyote, and one teen human who knows about the supernatural,” Scott shrugs. “Still, it’s good for all of them to have people their own age they don’t have to keep secrets from.”

A peal of laughter comes from inside the house, and Derek smiles, feeling just a little sad that this is just a vacation for his youngest beta.

“So we held off on picking out rooms,” Kira says. “We didn’t want you guys feeling like we staked out our territory before you got here.”

“It’s still early,” Derek says. “There’s still plenty of time to get settled. I know we’ve been on a plane for six hours and in the car for another two, so I think my pack might like to run on the beach for a while before we head inside.”

“Oh god, YES!” Erica enthuses, peeling off her jacket and rushing toward the sand. “Last one to get their feet wet is a rotten egg!”

After that, it’s a mad scramble as both packs rush toward the water. Boyd catches Erica and swings her up in the air just before her feet hit the water, and she cries out and calls him a cheater while the rest of them rush into the shallow surf.

When he finally lets her down, she splashes him in retaliation, and both packs get way too enthusiastic about the ensuing water fight. Allison finds a bucket and starts mercilessly tossing water on anyone and everyone. She takes aim at Isaac who has just enough time to shout, “Not my hair. NOT MY HAIR!” before Allison dumps the icy water down his back. She dances away, laughing, while Isaac chases her down the beach.

Eventually, the teens come out to join them, and Alicia jumps up on Derek’s back, declaring, “ALPHAS ARE WORTH DOUBLE POINTS!” which turns the game into Scott and Derek against everyone else.

As the sun starts going down across the water, the two packs drag their dripping, sandy selves back toward the house. There’s a chaotic scramble to get everyone’s rooms sorted out so they can shower and change into dry clothes. Isaac, who Derek had assumed he’d be rooming with to conserve space, shyly tells him that he’ll be sharing with Allison, leaving Derek in the big downstairs study with the pull out couch by himself.

He uses the outdoor shower next to the patio rather than scramble to use the only downstairs bathroom before the teenagers get to it, and is relieved to discover that it gets hot water. Once he’s clean and dressed, he gets to starting dinner. He and his pack had stopped and picked up burgers and hot dogs for everyone on their way from the airport, so he sets about cooking enough to feed an army. Or two packs of werewolves, which is roughly the same.

Slowly, the others start drifting in and helping, chopping veggies and toasting buns and setting the table on the outdoor patio. It’s all so easy and seamless, and Derek can’t help but remark on it when Scott winds up beside him, wrapping corn with butter and seasoning in foil to roast in the oven.

“Yeah, man. It’s pretty cool,” Scott agrees. “My pack really likes yours, so this week is gonna be a lot of fun!”

The packs sit outside, eating as the sun finally sets and the stars begin to come out. This week is turning out so well, and Derek is sure it will only get better once Stiles and Abby join them tomorrow.

* * *

 

“Scott, seriously! Where the fu--unloving heck is this place?” Stiles demands, pulling yet another U-turn on an obscure rural road while his GPS chants ‘ recalculating’ . Abby’s asleep in the back seat, but he’s oddly certain she would have woken up just to make him use the swear jar if he’d let himself slip up.

“It’s right where the map said, dude!” Scott’s voice comes over the car speakers. “I don’t know what to tell you. We didn’t have any trouble finding the place.”

“That’s not helpful, Scotty,” Stiles groans.

“Ok, ok. Are you on Merryweather Pike?” Scott asks.

“Ummm, yes,” Stiles confirms as they pass the next intersection.

“Have you passed the Ralph’s yet?”

“No! There’s no Ralph’s. I’ve been up and down this road and there’s no fuuu... reaking Ralph’s anywhere!”

“I saw the grocery store,” Abby says, waking up in the back seat. (Or, just as likely, deciding to stop pretending to be asleep.)

“That was a Von’s, sweety pop. Uncle Scott says we need to pass the Ralph’s,” Stiles says, trying to keep the frustration out of his tone.

“Wait! Yes! It was totally a Von’s, not a Ralph’s,” Scott exclaims, then muffled as he holds the phone away from his mouth, “Hey Derek, was it a Ralph’s or a Von’s you got groceries at yesterday?”

A brief pause, then Scott says back into the phone, “Derek says it was totally a Von’s.”

Stiles grips the steering wheel tightly, pointedly  not imagining that it’s his best friend’s throat.

“I’m sorry, bro!” Scott says, fully apologetic. “I knew it was a grocery store!”

“It’s fine,” Stiles grits. “Totally fine. I’ll just drive back to the Von’s.”

“Ok, great,” Scott says. “And then two lights after the Ralph’s --  fuck -- I mean the Von’s --”

“Swear jar, Uncle Scott!” Abby calls victoriously.

“What? I’m not even there! How do I get swear jarred when I’m not even there?” Scott pouts.

“If she hears it, you pay up, bud,” Stiles says, feeling vindictive.

“Fine. I’ll pay up when you get here. So two lights after the grocery store, you take a right on Beach Ave, and at the end of the road it’s a left on Ocean Lane.”

“Got it. Be there soon, we hope,” Stiles says, then disconnects the call.

Thankfully, it’s only about fifteen more minutes before they’re  finally pulling up to the beach house Derek found for their packs to share this week.

Before Stiles has even had time to unbuckle his seatbelt, Abby has flung off her own, pulled open the door, and run straight into the arms of -- who else? Derek.

Derek, who actually looks at ease with Abby in his arms, who is smiling happily as Abby babbles away at him, who’s making Abby giggle when all she’s said to Stiles is a grumpy, “Are we there yet?” for the last ten miles.

Stiles sighs and pulls himself out of the car, heading to the trunk to unload their bags. Scott comes over to help him and lead him into the house, chatting happily the whole time about how well the two packs have been getting along. 

“Great, sounds awesome,” Stiles says. “So show me where Abbers and I are bunking down for the week.”

Scott stutters to a halt, and squinches his face as he thinks.

“There is a room for us, right buddy?” Stiles prompts.

“Of course there is!” Scott scoffs. “We worked everything out when we booked the place, right? I just have to remember where we put you. We shuffled some stuff, because Allison and Isaac really hit it off yesterday and decided to room together, but there’s definitely a place for you.”

“I thought there was another room upstairs,” Derek says as he joins them. Abby’s no longer with him, so Stiles shoots him a questioning glance. “She heard about the blanket fort in the living room,” Derek explains, “and she wouldn’t be kept away.” Then to Scott he adds, “Aren’t there five rooms up there?”

“Nope, just four,” Scott says, “and they’re all filled with couples now.”

“Stiles and Abby can take the study, then,” Derek says. “I’ll move my stuff out now.”

“Well, then where are you sleeping, dude?” Stiles asks.

“It’s a big house,” Derek shrugs, “I’m sure there’s a spare bed I can crash on. But you and Abby need a place you can settle in. It’s no big deal.”

On the one hand, Stiles really doesn’t want to kick Derek out of his room. But on the other, he has a five-year-old to think of who really does need her own space away from the packs if they want any hope of keeping to her routine this week.

So Stiles gratefully accepts, and Derek moves his things out and helps move Abby’s things in. He carefully tucks a sheet around the cushions of the loveseat to make a bed for Abby, and turns it around so it’s pressing against the wall.

“It’s so she won’t fall out,” Derek says, when Stiles shoots him a questioning look, and Stiles doesn’t really have the heart to tell him that Abby’s been sleeping without a railguard for over a year now.

Besides, as soon as Abby sees it, she gleefully declares it her ‘nest’ and demands more and more pillows so she’ll basically just be sleeping in a pile of them.

“Have you met my pack yet?” Derek asks, and Stiles shakes his head and lets Derek lead the way to the kitchen.

* * *

 

“Dude! What happened to your face?” Liam demands when Derek walks into the kitchen for breakfast the next morning.

Derek, who’s still waking up, has no idea what the teen is talking about.

“Boss, you’ve got, like, red marks all over your face in some kinda diamond pattern,” Boyd says.

“Oh,” Derek says, rubbing his cheek idly, “must be from the hammock.”

“You slept in the hammock?!” Stiles exclaims. “Dude, oh my god, I feel so bad!”

“What? Why?” Derek asks.

Stiles raises his eyebrows incredulously. “Uh, that whole kicking you out of your bed yesterday thing?”

“You didn’t kick me out,” Derek insists. “I offered. Besides, it was nice sleeping outside.”

“Yeah, Derek’s a total nature freak,” Erica tells Stiles, idly munching on a piece of bacon. “He tried to make us go camping once. Alicia had to fake accidental mistletoe poisoning to get us out of it.”

Derek whips around to glare at his youngest beta. “You were  faking? I was worried sick!”

“No,” Alicia says, despite the fact that her heartbeat’s a dead giveaway to every werewolf in the room. “I was totally sick, I don’t know what Erica’s talking about.”

Derek huffs and sits down to eat.

Stiles is still looking at him with a guilty expression, so Derek tells him, “Seriously. It’s fine. I enjoyed having an excuse to sleep out in the open air.”

Stiles doesn't quite look like he believes Derek, but he smiles and returns to his breakfast and that will just have to be good enough for now.

“So,” Scott says, clapping his hands together eagerly as he enters the kitchen, “What have we got planned for today?”

“There’s a hiking trail nearby that's supposed to have some really pretty overlooks of the ocean,” Kira offers, wandering in behind Scott. 

“But we wanted to go into town!” Liam whines. Malia and Mason pout behind him.

“Please, Derek!” Alicia pleads, “Can we go to town instead of some hike?”

Derek shoots a questioning look to Scott, not wanting to step on any toes. Especially since three of the teens are from Scott’s pack and only Alicia is from Derek’s. 

“I'll go with them,” Erica offers. “We can divide and conquer.”

“Yeah, I could go into town,” Isaac says, just as Allison declares her interest in hiking, “I mean, hike. I definitely want to go on the hike.”

They agree to split up into two groups, Erica, Boyd, and the teenagers heading into town and everyone else going on the hike.

“What do you want to do, Abby-sauce?” Stiles asks.

“I wanna hike!” Abby declares, “And I want Da-Der to carry me on his shoulders so I can be tall!”

Derek looks questioningly at Stiles, because the nickname is new. Stiles shrugs, looking as clueless as Derek feels.

“Am I  Da-Der? ” He asks Abby.

“Duh,” the five-year-old replies, “because Daddy is my  Daddy Daddy, but you’re my  Derek Daddy but saying Derek Daddy is too long so I made it shorter.”

Is that okay? Derek mouths to Stiles over Abby’s head. Stiles looks a little wary, but nods.

* * *

 

Abby sits happily atop Derek as they walk, cheerfully pointing out every animal she sees.

Derek clutches her knees where they’re hooked over his shoulders, terrified that she'll get overly enthusiastic and fall backwards trying to point out the hundredth squirrel they've seen.

Stiles, at least, seems amused by his nervousness and makes a game out of pretending to see mythical creatures wherever Abby isn't looking so that she whips her body around quickly to try and see the unicorn or phoenix or jackalope that Stiles swears is right behind that tree or under those ferns.

Scott and Kira lead the way, challenging each other to race to the next overlook and then staring awestruck at the views until the rest of them catch up. Isaac and Allison bring up the rear, and Derek decides he really doesn't want to know what, exactly, they were doing that made them fall fifteen minutes behind the rest of the group.

Lydia and Jackson had decided to stay behind at the house. Lydia had claimed it was because she had work to do for the law office, but Derek is pretty sure the couple just wanted the house to themselves for the morning.

They’re heading back toward the cars, walking downhill, when Derek’s foot slips out from under him on some loose rocks and he falls suddenly backwards with Abby still on his shoulders. 

Stiles is on them in a second, scooping Abby up and kissing her scraped elbow even as the skin stitches itself back together before their eyes.

Derek feels horrible, babbling out apologies and asking Abby if she's ok. He knows the physical damage won't last - his daughter is a werewolf after all - but he’s terrified that dropping her will shatter the fragile trust he's been trying to build with her over the past several months.

“You’re ok now,” Stiles assures Abby. “It was just a little fall, and Derek didn't mean to do it. It was just a little accident, ok Abbs?”

Abby is sniffling, her face turning red, and her sobs seem to be getting worse instead of better.

“Abby, are you ok?” Derek asks frantically. “Are you still hurt?”

Derek is prepared for blood, for a protruding bone that needs to be reset before Abby’s body can heal itself, for any physical damage he might be able to help fix.

What he isn't prepared for is the way his daughter wails, “MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYY!”

Stiles’ face looks stricken as soon as she says it. Derek feels helpless. He feels like an intruder, an unsatisfactory substitute for the parent his daughter loved so much.

Scott and Kira come rushing back towards them just as Allison and Isaac catch up to them.

“What's wrong?” Scott asks frantically. “We heard yelling.”

Between sobs, Abby cries, “I want Mommy!”

Everyone looks stricken at Abby’s declaration, their pitying glances darting awkwardly toward Stiles.

“Abby, baby, we talked about this, remember?” Stiles says gently, with a barely concealed waver in his voice. “Mommy had to go up to heaven to be with the angels, but she's watching out for us always.”

“But I don't want her to be up in heaven,” Abby wails. “I want her to be here!”

“Me too, baby,” Stiles says. “Me too.”

He picks her up, and she clings to him, burying her face in his neck as she cries.

Stiles looks around at the rest of them, avoiding meeting anyone's gaze directly. “Let's head back, ok?” he says before starting back down the path.

The rest of the hike and the drive back to the house are painfully silent. Derek hesitates as they split into two cars, wanting to make sure Abby is ok but not wanting to make things worse. He ends up riding back with Isaac and Allison, letting Stiles and Abby ride with Scott and Kira.

He knows he’s stewing in guilt, but he doesn't realize how much he’s projecting it until Isaac says, “It’s not your fault, Derek.”

“I dropped her,” Derek says. “All I ever wanted was to keep her safe, and I dropped her.”

“It was an accident,” Allison assures him. “You slipped, it happens. She was barely hurt. Even if she was human, she wouldn't have been badly injured.”

“She was so upset,” Derek protests.

“Because she misses her mom,” Isaac says. “That has nothing to do with you.”

Derek nods, but he doesn't quite believe his beta.

He just thinks about Abby’s tear-stained face and wishes he could stop her from ever being sad again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy god, this chapter took me so long to get out and I am so sorry! But it's here and we are in the home stretch now that I have my mojo back. 
> 
> Shit. I probably just jinxed myself.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on tumblr! [minervamagooglie](http://minervamagooglie.tumblr.com/) at your service! And please feel free to askbox me if you have any questions or concerns about tags or warnings in this fic.


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